Mass Effect vs Aliens: The Siege Of Hadley's Hope
by jerseydanielgibson
Summary: LV426, a Weyland-Yutani Corp. Colony out in the Reticuli System. A colonial distress beacon has been triggered with no return reply, and the Alliance has sent recent graduate 2nd Lieutenant Jane Shepard and squad of Marines to investigate, along with the survivor of the WYC Nostromo, Lt. Ellen Ripley… (F!ShepxBurke)
1. Chapter 1: Well, Shit

**Preword: Well, shit.**

I came up with this idea while doing my Hale/Meer Chronicles, thinking of having Private Jeanette 'AMF' Vasquez as a squad mate, and implying that an 'incident' happened at LV 246.

So I've inserted both universes together.

As this is a story conglomeration, somethings have changed. Androids are an obvious no-no, and pulse rifles are gone. The _Nostromo_'s story has changed slightly, and I had to alter the time table, as Ripley's 57 year hibernation would mean she pre-dates the Mars Archive discovery, which means that interstellar travel had to be achieve before then. Though I use the term hyperspace as a means of travel, this is not to be confused with Star Wars' hyperspace, which is more of a break of reality as oppose to faster-than-light. In this, hyperspace means pre-Relay FTL flight by means of what I've invented as the Yarik Hyperdrive Core; a matter-anti-matter fusion reaction engine capable of creating a copious amount of energy released into an electromagnetically-conductive current infused with the ship to accelerate it to speeds that can make a ship go sixty light-years an hour. In Mass Effect, Relay travel is pegged at about 1 parsec an hour (or about 3,261.667 light years for you sciencey types).

The Alliance is different, too. The founding of the Mars Archives was done by a Corporation, who immediately went heavy into research and development. While the discovery did lead to the formation of the Systems Alliance, it is now a Corporation-ran oligarchy (a government of the privileged few, usually for corrupt, selfish needs) in which the Alliance Military, along with the protection of humanity and the Systems, is now deeply-vested in Corporate Interests.

The Cast of Aliens is completely faithful save for a few instances. Lt. Gorman (played by William Hope) is the only one missing. Sorry, Bill Hope. I did throw him into another role, though. As for the first names of the Marines, I went with the first name of the actors (thus, PFC Hudson is now PFC Bill Hudson, as he is played by Bill Paxton). If the character had a first name (like Ellen Ripley) then the name stays faithful. A few Mass Effect characters make it on, but for the most part, this is Aliens in a Mass Effect Universe.

As this is AU to two different stories, some things will be original. The _Sulaco_ that the Marines arrived on in the movie somehow is empty of personnel while they're getting eaten. Who the hell leaves a ship unmanned? This is a plot hole I will fix, and other explanations as well, as how Hadley's Hope got completely overrun when Newt's father was the only one who was visibly facehugged during the Special Edition. Newt's survival, too, will be better explained.

I will try to stay faithful to Aliens as I see fit, mostly pertaining to the dialogue and interaction of the Marines themselves. Yes, they will be in Onyx armor, but having Vasquez's Smart Gun painted '_Adios_' on the side will be there. All guns are Mass Effect guns, including the Smart Guns. All ships (save the _Nostromo_) are Mass Effect ships. There will be Omnitools, turrets, and even security mechs. The Tracker will be an Omnitool program. The Flamer is now a Tech Attack known as the 'Incinerator' from an Omnitool using Omnigel from a canister.

2nd Lieutenant Jane Shepard is a soldier, fresh out of OCS, making it approximately 2176 (she is now twenty-two). She is not an N7, the Butcher, the Sole Survivor, or the Star of Terra winner. How many combat drops has she had? Uh… two. Including this one.

And if you need an emphasis for mood, check out James Horner's very wonderful original score to Aliens, which you can listen for free on such internet programs like Spotify. Considering I wrote this to the soundtrack… it works.

So sit back, relax, and remember… in space, no one can hear you scream.


	2. Chapter 2: First Impressions

Disclaimer: BioWare owns Mass Effect. 20th Century Fox owns the _Alien_ franchise.

**Arcturus Station, November 9, 2176**

"Lieutenant Shepard?"

2nd Lieutenant Jane Shepard turned to see a 30's-something man approaching her, dressed in a smart-looking tan-brown suit with a ID badge clipped to his blazer's front pocket identifying him as an employee of the Weyland-Yutani Corporation; another Goddamn suit. The man, with his expensive haircut and shined shoes, didn't seem afraid to approach her or shake her hand, obviously not intimidated by the sight of a Marine in her Alliance Blues. Shepard took the hand, giving it a nice masculine handshake, gripping it hard enough for the suit to wince a little. Soft little mid-level executive; they were all made the same.

"I am." Shepard finally replied after the handshake, standing easily with her hands on her hips, looking at the man, seeing that they were of the same height. She was tall for a woman, meaning that he was fairly on the short side for a man. Still, she guessed he wasn't completely worthless; he looked fit, and didn't have a beer gut threatening to stretch the buttons on his dress shirt or man-tits to pinch up his tie. Plus, his eyes were on hers, and not on anything lower than eye-level; that was a nice start. "And you are… Mr. Burke?" A quick flick of the eyes to his badge, and she could see his name labeled; Burke, C. J.

"Please, call me Carter." The man smiled easily, motioning for her to follow him. The room she had been waiting in for the suit she was now following was thankfully not a bad one; the seating was comfortable, the music over the intercom system wasn't some Asari tech-synth shit, and the monitor had been playing the game, the Edmonton Blood Dragons squaring off with Manchester United. At least the suit was early. Shepard followed the man in the tan-brown suit, down the corridor of Arcturus Station, where half the people they passed by were in Alliance Blue, a quarter civilian defense contractors working for the military, and the rest corporate scumbags that cared more about a percentage than the value of a human life. If she had to hear about one more recon patrol just because some company lost contact with their 'investment'…

The man swung a left down a hallway, and Shepard duly followed, the man taking her to a door where the holographic lock displayed red. Burke opened up his Omnitool and stuck it against the biometric scanner next to the door, the device reading the suit's credentials through his Omnitool, finally chiming in the clear a few seconds later as the holographic lock went from red to green, signifying that it was clear for them to enter. The door slid open pneumatically to one side, the suit walking through without a second thought as Shepard followed him, finding herself entering, of all things, a boardroom of sorts. There were already five men and a woman sitting at the conference room-styled table that dominated the space, with several more seats available to chose from. Along one wall was a haptic monitor that was currently off, the lighting of the room bright enough to suggest that this was going to be talking meeting, not a show-and-tell. Shepard looked at the others already in the room; four suits, one man in Blues, and a woman in business attire. The military man she knew; Captain David Edward Anderson, Humanity's First N7, known as the Black Fox; her CO. The suits Shepard had no idea, but their apparal were of much finer tastes and much more expensive than Carter Burke's. Each of them had 'WYC' labeled on their ID badges, and she knew with her first look that these weren't mid-level executives. Older, sterner, and looked like accountants. Shit, some Goddamn Committee Members or Board Members, unless she missed her guess. Alliance catering to the corporations once more.

It was a sad fact of life that the Systems Alliance, the sole government of Earth and Humanity, was in truth a three-part government that couldn't exist without the help of Big Business. The military needed money for ships, Marines, guns, all the things to protect humanity with, but the military wasn't some Girl Scout Cookie Fund where Terrans and colonists gratefully tossed money their way so they could pay for Dreadnauts and Lancers. While the Alliance Blue represented one-third of the government, the business end was how the Alliance got its money to run. Corporations like Weyland-Yutani Corporation and the Sirta Foundation were the moneymakers, while Jarheads like her protected their investments. Colonies in Alliance Space were cash-funded by the Corporations, and taxed by them, selling food grown and products made to people in Alliance space and beyond to keep the whole damn thing running. Hell, the standard M7 Lancer battle rifle was a Corporate gun made by Hadne-Keder, while the standard Marine Onyx armor was made by Aldrin Labs!

It seemed the Blue was going to be sucking the Corporations' cock once more, and she was going to be the girl with the towel to wipe up the mess.

"Lieutenant Shepard?" The man at the head of the table, an older gentleman in his fifties, spoke in a clear voice, his piercing blue eyes striking as he looked at her. "Have a seat. I'm Director Jack Harper, CIO of Weyland-Yutani." CIO? Chief Intelligence Officer? "With me are Mr. Paul Van Leuwan, Mr. Carl Toop, Mr. Adrian Biddle, and our recorder, Ms. Gale Anne Hurd." Each of the members nod their head accordingly as Shepard took a seat by Captain Anderson, her superior officer giving her a wane smile as Burke sat near the end of the table, opposite of the meeting recorder, the woman turning on her Omnitool and accessing the secured portion that would record the notes of the meeting without it being hacked into.

"Director." Shepard replied simply, keeping it formal. Shit, she didn't like the fact of these meetings. She'd only been to a few, but she always felt like someone's ugly pooch in a kennel show.

"Lieutenant, we've run into a complication with one of our colonies." The Director began, pulling out, of all things, a cigarette. The man paused to light the cigarette with a lighter, inhaling the noxious fumes and blowing out pale blue-grey smoke right into the conference room. She didn't say anything; none of the others looked alarmed or surprised by the man's actions, and figured it one of his stress-relief techniques. Hell, she was a Marine; most of her Marines smoked, anyhow. "An emergency distress signal was tripped on our colony on LV 426 three days ago. We've sent messages, data requests, and even tried to remotely hack into the colony's transmitter and network, all without success. All attempts have met with failure."

"Now, normally," began Mr. Van Leuwan, an even older gentleman in his seventies, his hair silver, "this would be cause for concern with the thought of pirate or slaver attacks. Yet the GTS systems were never spun up, and the encrypted emergency protocol suggested that something happened internally. The specifics weren't clear, but it looks to be that there was a contamination issue. Perhaps a leak in the reactor, or a toxic substance interacted with the terraforming apparatus. What we do know that this wasn't due to outside forces."

"What we need," continued Mr. Toop, the youngest of the bunch, looking to be Burke's age, "is for you and your new platoon to travel to LV 426 and investigate what happened to the colony. Though we don't believe there is a threat, scavengers and opportunists in the galaxy are a concern. It could very well be an infowar attack, a hacked signal, or some STG team that wishes to interfere with the terraforming process and cut into our profits." Ah, there was that word. They went one whole Goddamn minute without saying it; a record. Shepard promised herself to get Ms. Hurd to forward the recording to commemorate the event. "That's why we need the Alliance. That's why we need the Marines. That's why we need you."

"Because the Alliance is here to help." Shepard sighed, looking over to Anderson, his dark face the very example of wearied patience. God knew if any in the military liked working hand-in-hand with the Corporations. It had only been six months since she graduated from Annapolis, and here she was, doing milk runs for the Corporate scum. "What do we know of LV 426? Never heard of it, myself." Who could keep track of all those wildcat colonies, anyhow? For every system humanity owned, the Corporations shoved colonists and then some, dumped onto it for mining, ice-cracking, shale-fraking, terraforming, or just convincing some losers to move out into the cosmos to reduce the overpopulation problem on Earth. Made her glad she was born on a ship.

"It's situated in the Zeta Herculis Cluster, specifically in the Zeta Reticuli System." The Director replied, hitting a few buttons on the arm of his chair, bringing up a holographic haptic display, and pushing in a few commands. The lights began to dim in the room, and the haptic monitor came to life. A planet popped into view, moving onto one of its three moons, statistics running along side it on the right hand side of the screen, labeled as 'LV 426/Acheron'. Must have been award-winning, Shepard thought to herself, if they didn't even use its proper name, the colony still listed with its discovery title. It was a standard ball of rock with little in the way of comfort, though the gravity was near Earth-norm, and the air pressure was slowly rising up near to the standard 14.7 psi's that humans enjoyed. Day time temp ran a little frigid at 8 Celsius, with a nighttime that his -34. The oxygen content was human-safe at 17%, and the carbon dioxide count was 3 ppm; well within the safe zone. Still needed terraforming of the atmosphere for another ten years or so, as Shepard understood it. 50 hour days, 80% atmospheric pressure, 87% percent gravity… still looked like a shithole, though; high wind speeds, non-potable water that evaporated and rained that had some interesting properties even after the evaporation process and the terraforming. A regular gloom-and-doom colony.

Perfect place for something to go wrong, of course.

"Hadley's Hope." Shepard read the colony town's name, and the Director pulled up a simple blueprint of the town; the familiar site of pre-fabs plopped onto the surface in a haphazard fashion came into view, metal catwalks and skywalks connecting many of the buildings. It looked like a regular lumpfuck shitstorm mess like most of these for-profit colonies the Corporations always tried to pawn off in commercials as 'adventurous' or 'getting back to human roots'. Poor fuckers signed on, got a shithole, and probably mined or savaged whatever they could find to get a minuscule percentage of the profits on the hopes they wouldn't die at 40 or 50 years of age from working themselves to death, aging prematurely from the stress, strain, and long-ass hours. Shepard studied the blueprints for what seemed to be a satisfactory length of time. "How many colonists? I don't see a listing."

"Approximately two-hundred to two-hundred and twenty families." This came from Mr. Biddle, obviously the insurance guy; he just had that look. "So we're looking at about 800 to 1,000 people if you include all the workers, the security personnel, and any transients they may have picked up along the way."

"All human?" Shepard asked pointedly. Sometimes these Corporations would get into bed with anyone…

"Yes." The Director replied, nodding his head in approval. "Now, there was a lab set up for some research, and there were some non-human working there, a cooperation deal with Eldfall-Ashland Energy, working on a new type of cold fusion process. Several Asari, Salarians, Turians, and humans worked there. While a part of Hadley's Hope, the lab itself is self-sufficient and self-contained, though for reasons unknown to us, are not responding to any requests made by EAE." The information had Shepard purse her lips; aliens on a wildcat colony, probably illegal research. The explanation that Director Harper had given, new type of cold fusion, sounded like the kind of bullshit that ended up being AI research or a new type of mass accelerator cannon that would have most people go ape-shit. The multitude of aliens just meant that it had Counsel-sanction; if not, then it was probably some Corporate research that was completely off-the-books and black-as-shit. Shit, she and her Marines didn't need that crap coming back to bite them on the ass. Smelled like a cover-up job. Something went wrong, dumbass colonists are dead, and the Marines are the janitors of Alliance Space. She didn't trust Director Harper or his creepy blue eyes. He continued to smoke as her eyes went to the monitor, looking at the schematics of Hadley's Hope again. Christ… families.

Something on the monitor caught her attention.

"Who's this… Ripley?" Shepard asked, looking at the original survey team, seeing that all were deceased save for one Ripley, E., (F)Lt. (Revoked). According to the notes on the side, the woman was pushing 94 years old. Yet the revoke date on her flight license was dated only seven-weeks ago. Who would do that to a woman that hadn't flown in decades?

"That's on a need-to-know basis." Van Leuwan replied scornfully, obviously the executive not liking the reminder of whatever she had brought up. "None of which is relevant to the mission on hand." The silver-maned man stared at her hard, as if his preened looks were daggers.

"Mr. Van Leuwan, Lieutenant Shepard is trying to gather as much intel for the mission before deploying her platoon, as is standard for an Operations Order." Captain Anderson spoke up, saving the day. "If we have someone who has been on that colony, they can provide us with local intelligence, anything that we might need to know to help us do our jobs faster, better." Van Leuwan stared at the N7, who hardly looked ruffled at the glare. Rich little snob thought he could stare down a Special Forces soldier? Shepard almost snorted at the fact.

"Mr. Burke, forward former Flight Lieutenant Ripley's dossier to Lieutenant Shepard, and have her meet with Ripley." The Director called out, his words superseding all others. "This is, after all, a military operation, and significant capitol and investments are tied into the place. I would rather the Lieutenant hear 57 year-old intelligence than have to base critical decisions with no intelligence."

"Understood, Director." Carter replied from at his end of the table, putting something down on his datapad.

"Forward all corresponding information to Lieutenant Shepard; the emergency signal, our attempts at contact, the blueprints, all unclassified information related to Hadley's Hope, and the name of the registered colonists." Director Jack Harper continued, looking at the mid-level executive with his creepy-ass eyes. "Coordinate the required WYC assets needed, and assign yourself a berth as well, Mr. Burke, as the Corporation's adviser and liaison." Shit, they were saddling her with a fucking corporate-level spy flunky, Shepard thought with distaste, though she guess Carter Burke wasn't the worst scumbag slimeball in existence. "This meeting is adjourned." Everyone stood from their seats, the Corporate executives straightening out their suits while Ms. Hurd straightened out her dress. Herself and Captain Anderson stood as well at the position of attention as the CIO of Weyland-Yutani walked from his seat to the conference room door, the first to leave as the rest of the high-end executives filed out behind him. Captain Anderson gave Shepard a polite nod and left as well, the Lieutenant knowing she would see her Commanding Officer before she left. All that left her with was the mid-level executive, Carter Burke, who straightened his tie before turning to her.

"Well, that went well." The man said simply, giving her a small smile. "You want to look at the brief, or do you want to meet Ripley first? I recommend seeing her first. She's… quite a character."

"Fine. We'll do that." Shepard replied, thinking the meeting with an old woman would be short.

* * *

"Here we are." Burke, true to his word, had led Lieutenant Jane Shepard deeper into Arcturus Station, taking her to the lower levels where the general workers and employees lived. As a military woman, she was more use to living on ships, and knew little of the station itself, and its maze of corridors and levels. It was easy to tell that this was one of the 'poorer' levels of the station, with its cheaper lighting and lack of any adornments on the walls or floor of the level. Everything was metal, sharp-angled with no relief, a lack of care infused in the feeling. The few people walking the corridor took one look at her Alliance Blue uniform and politely stepped to one side, giving her the right-of-way as Carter Burke reached an otherwise unremarkable door marked only 'J247'. The mid-level corporate executive pushed a finger on the door's call buzzer, the level not even foisting the money for haptic displays or holographic locks. Shepard knew better than to comment. These were the menial workers that kept the Alliance going; the cooks, the loaders, the drivers, and the haulers. It was the little people that kept Earth running, and this was one of their doors.

The door slid open to reveal a mid-30's woman dressed in khaki workman slacks and a white tanktop, curly brown hair and eyes looking at the both of them curiously.

"Hiya, Ripley." Burke began, surprising Shepard for a second. She thought Ripley was in her 90's? "This is Lieutenant Shepard with the Systems Alliance Marine…"

The door slid close in their faces.

"That went well." Shepard couldn't help but intone to the mid-level executive, the bureaucrat nonplussed.

"No worries, Lieutenant." Burke assured her. "Ripley?" The man called out louder, making it to where he could be heard through the metal door. "We have to talk. We've lost contact with the colony on LV-426." Shepard counted five seconds before the door slid open again, the woman returned, her eyes wide. So this was _the_ Ripley? Of the _Nostromo_? Perhaps she should have read the report first. The woman grunted and jerked her head towards the apartment, letting them know that they had her permission to enter. Burke walked in casually enough, while Shepard removed her blue beret, sliding it underneath her right arm as she walked in as well, tapping on an interior panel to close the door behind her. Her eyes cased themselves around the apartment, and found it to be a depressingly small one-bedroom affair, the bed obviously unmade that the opened door revealed, sparsely decorated with a chair and a holovid player, and dishes in the sink. Slovenly, yet a look at the woman herself showed Shepard a woman who was suffering through some trauma, something Shepard could understand. Ripley moved to the kitchen and grabbed three mugs, and began pouring coffee in each. Shepard glanced at the ashtray by the room's only chair, on the room's only table, and found it to be filled with cigarette butts. The last one looked like it was left to burn about half its length.

Survivor's guilt; she'd bet credits on it.

Ripley came back with the mugs, handing Burke and herself a cup, which Shepard politely took a sip, finding it to be the cheap kind that one needed a good deal of creamer and sugar to improve upon, except hers was black. She said nothing to indicate the bitterness of the bad coffee. Burke didn't even drink his as Ripley turned to her seat and sat in it.

"I don't believe this." The woman scoffed, looking at the bureaucrat with indignation; obviously, they knew each other. "You guys throw me out to the wolves… and now you want me to go back _out there_?" The emphasis was strong and filled with scorn, and Shepard could hear the bitter tone in the woman's voice as she gulped her cheap coffee. "Forget it! It's not my problem."

"Can I finish?" Burke asked, his tone slightly pleading. Shepard chose to remain silent.

"No. There's no way." Ripley shook her head. Damn it, she really needed to know what this woman knew.

"Ms. Ripley," Shepard spoke up, doing her best to keep her tone polite and friendly. "You won't be going in with the troops. I _can_ guarantee your safety." Shepard emphasized that they could protect her. If the woman was dealing with a traumatic past, then let her think of how a platoon of Marines can take the offensive.

"She's right, Ripley." Burke jumped in with perfect timing. "These Alliance Marines are very tough _hombres_, and they're packing state-of-the-art equipment. There's nothing they can't handle. Isn't that true, Lieutenant Shepard?"

"That is correct." Shepard replied, amazed on how well they were talking to the woman, almost as if scripted. She could see Ripley's resolve wavering. "We've been trained to deal with situations like these."

"Well, then, you don't need me. I'm not a soldier." The woman replied antagonistically, shaking her head, her thoughts still obviously on whatever it was she feared. What did happen on that planet? On that ship? Burke continued.

"Yeah, but we don't know what's going on down there." The bureaucrat responded soothingly, using what he did best to their advantage. It made Shepard feel dirty, extolling this woman's fear because she thought they would need some grounded flier. "It could be a down transmitter, okay? But if it's not… _if_… I would… _we_ would like you down there, Lieutenant Shepard and I. As an adviser and that's all." Not bad. Shepard could see why Burke got his job. Man oozed comforting lies.

"What's your interest in this? Why are you going?" Both good questions, the Lieutenant admitted to herself. She knew the answer to one of them.

"Weyland-Yutani co-financed that colony through Alliance Colonial Administration." The mid-level executive answered immediately, his tone completely sincere. "We're getting into a lot of terraforming now. Building better worlds…" Gods, did he just use the Colonial Promotion Tagline?

"Yeah, I've seen the commercials." Ripley wasn't impressed. Neither was Shepard. "Look, I'm busy, and I've got things to do." The woman looked at her left wrist, and Shepard was surprised to see an archaic wristwatch just above the woman's left hand. Was she so poor that she couldn't afford even a cheap Omnitool? "I've got to get to work."

"Oh, right." Burke's voice was completely compliant, holding up his hands in a surrender fashion. "I heard that you were working in the Alliance cargo docks." Small talk?

"Yeah, that's right." Ripley didn't seem to like where this line of conversation was going, looking at Burke warily.

"Running loaders, forklifts, that sort of thing?"

"Yeah? So?" The woman's tone became hostile and belligerent. _What the hell was Burke up to_, Shepard wondered.

"Nothing! I think it's great!" The bureaucrat responded with a complimentary tone, giving the woman a smile. "You're keeping yourself busy, and… and I know that was all you could get. There's nothing wrong with it." Shit, a former pilot driving a forklift? They had mechs that could do that! Shepard saw what Burke was doing; playing on the woman's self-worth, while appealing to her ego as well. Very slimy. Not bad at all. "What would you say if I could get you reinstated as a Flight Lieutenant for the Alliance? The company has agreed to sponsor your contract through the military."

"_If_ I go." There was no splitting hairs, there, Shepard noted to herself, taking another sip of her coffee, content just to stand back and watch the tennis match. Burke was good.

"_If_ you go." The mid-level executive laid it out, not splitting hairs, either. "C'mon, kiddo! This is a _second chance_! I think, personally for you," the bureaucrat moved in a little bit closer, closing the deal, going for the kill, "it would be the best thing in the world for you to go and face this thing. Get back on the horse…" What an antiquated saying. Did horses even exist, anymore? Shepard reminded herself that this woman was born back in the late 2000's.

"Spare me, Burke." Ripley countered, shaking her head as she sighed, whatever build-up Burke had going immediately deflating. "I've had my psych eval this month already." Burke's face fell apart, frowning, and for a moment, it was hard for Shepard to tell if it was the real deal, or just another tactic. He took another gentle step forward, his face going serious, and the tone he used wasn't that of a bureaucrat or a company man; it sounded sincere.

"Yeah, I know, Ripley. I've read it." Burke admitted, surprising both women in the room. "You wake up every night screaming, your sheets soaked in sweat…"

"I _said_ NO… and I mean it!" The woman cried out, her resolve gone, the fear having won out, Shepard saw. "Now, please leave. I am _not_ going back… and I wouldn't be any good to you if I did." The Lieutenant had seen this behavior before; survivor's guilt. It was a tough nut to crack. Most never did. Burke put his hands up again to calm her down, seeing that the woman was on the ragged edge.

"Okay, shhhhh." The bureaucrat said soothingly, pulling out a translucent business calling card that would let Ripley contact him on the company's expense if she so desired, placing it on the coffee table. "Would you do me a favor and… and just think about it?" Burke turned to her, nodding to her to indicate that they wouldn't push the woman any further. Good.

"Thank you for the coffee, ma'am." Shepard said, setting her barely sipped mug down on the coffee table by the card on purpose. If she had to put hard credits on it, she'd bet that Burke would be getting a call. Probably at night. Accompanied with soaked sheets. Both bureaucrat and Marine left the apartment, the door closing behind them as they walked down the corridor, Lieutenant Shepard putting her blue beret back on her head.

"She'll call." Shepard told the mid-level executive. "Call it woman's intuition."

"I agree, and… I hope you're right. She needs this." Burke breathed out, surprising Shepard. Holy shit, the man did have a soul somewhere in that suit. Probably connected with a pocket protector.

"And you were right; she is a character."

* * *

2nd Lieutenant Jane Shepard was at her work station onboard the SSV _Sulaco_, a Marine Corps Corvette-Class vessel that was big enough for two platoons of Marines, two UD-4 drop ships, two M577 GRZLY APC's, and a small crew of Alliance Navy to fly it. The Corvette was the bread-and-butter boat of the Alliance, a small, fast transport meant to shuttle a half-company of Marines, air support, and armor to any place in Alliance space that needed some loving, tender care from the men and women in Blue. Corvettes themselves were practically worthless in a fight, only carrying half-a-dozen anti-ship missiles to punch through a blockade to enter into atmo; slip in, drop, and bug out. Working in the small CIC, Shepard had taken her position at her assigned work station to go over the new platoon she was to take over in the next few days; the 343 Mobile Infantry, known as the Red Raiders. Their previous Lieutenant, one 1LT Bill Gorman, had bought it during a skirmish with some pirates a few weeks back, and she was to inherit his position and duties tomorrow. Shepard was looking at the roster of men and women that would be in her platoon, going over their names, the pictures of their faces, and some of their accomplishments. The Platoon Sergeant, a Gunnery Sergeant by the name of Al Apone, looked to be carved from steel, and about as merciful. She hoped she made a good first impression on them.

Shepard went through some of the past actions of the 343, seeing a series of raids, hunts, and defensive actions that they had accomplished during the past year. She was pretty impressed with what she saw; hardcore Marines that got the job done. There were sadly some slots with vacancies that had yet to be filled, the platoon having taken some losses from the pirates. Both Squad Sergeants were KIA, which was unfortunate, and a look through the Bureau of Personnel didn't show those slots being filled any time soon. Thankfully, there were a couple of Corporals who could step up, but Shepard was a little dismayed to see that one of them was actually a Navy Corpsman; the platoon medic, Corporal Cynthia Detrich. The other one, Corporal Dwayne Hicks, had a rather impressive Enlisted Record Brief, filled with awards and recommendations. All of his Non-Commissioned Officer Evaluation Reports showed high marks, and his physical fitness reports and marksmanship skills were all top-notched. Sound like a man deserving a promotion. She would gauge him when she formally took over the platoon, and bounce it off of Gunny Apone. If BuPers wouldn't hand her a Sergeant, then she would make one if he deserved it. She looked at the other names; Hudson, B., Drake, M., Vasquez, J. … the Ministry of the Navy Photos giving a snippet of an idea about each. Vasquez looked to be a tough-ass _chica_, while Hudson just looked like a troublemaker. Came with the territory.

And on her workstation, an incoming call announced itself.

It was late at night, and a quick time check told her that it was 2243 Zulu, late enough that only the 2nd shift Watch Officer of the _Sulaco_ was still up, a Navy Lieutenant (j.g.) who was watching a Blasto flick on his Omnitool. She saw who was trying to reach her, and Shepard snorted as she opened the AllianceSkype window to connect the call. The chat window opened, the resolution clearing up almost immediately for her to see Carter Burke looking at the window, looking as if he had been just woken up. Shepard could see that the call was being made from beside his bed.

"Lieutenant Shepard. You're still up?" The bureaucrat asked, his voice still scratchy from sleep, looking at her through the chat window blearily. The surprise was evident in his voice.

"Mr. Burke, this had better not be a booty call." The Lieutenant replied with a little humor in her voice, making the man do a quick double-take. She had to smile at that; she caught the suit off-guard.

"No-no-no, nothing like that!" The mid-level executive promised quickly, and then looked closer at the chat window, and obviously saw her smile, getting the joke. "Lieutenant, I didn't know the Marine Corps issued out a sense of humor."

"Yeah, we'll I guess that BuPers messed up and got you a model with most of her twisted sense of personality still intact. They're working on the emergency situation to rectify the impeding apocalypse as we speak." Shepard replied, completely flat-panned, making Burke chuckle slightly as the man rubbed at his face.

"Well, there is a reason I called you at this time of night; guess who just Skyped me?"

"Ripley." Shepard nodded knowingly, having already read the report about the planet, the ship WYC _Nostromo_, and the confusing series of events that led to the crews' demise. No wonder that woman had survivor's guilt and nightmares. Christ, if she did the math correctly, that meant that Ripley had gone through First Contact on a hyperdrive ship back in 2121! When visiting the woman's apartment, Shepard had seen the tattoo on the woman's right shoulder, just above her bicep, of the Old Stars and Stripes. If the woman hadn't been born in 2087, the Corporate Courts would have hauled her in immediately for being a Nationalist! Shepard hadn't said a word in the apartment, and neither had Burke; obviously, Weyland-Yutani wasn't making a stink out of it, so she wouldn't, either. "Looks like I was right. You owe me a drink, Carter."

"I don't remember betting drinks." The man frowned at first, and then he smiled and shook his head ruefully. The bureaucrat finally caught on. Perhaps it was the use of his first name. "Geez, Lieutenant. If I had known you were this much fun off-the-clock, I would have bet you drinks with the intention of losing. So much for first impressions."

"Second ones work just as well." Shepard replied, her voice going a little huskier as she let herself get a little closer to the camera. "So. Drinks? Or does that bed have enough company?"

"I hope you're a scotch kind of girl, 'cuz that's what I got." Burke replied, his polished voice growing a little more amused. "Here, let me forward the directions to my suite. And just think of it; silk sheets and a Sealy mattress instead of a Navy sleeper pod."

"Well then, I guess we have a reason to make it past the living room."

A/N: Everyone in this is either a part of Aliens or Mass Effect. Van Leuwan (played by Paul Maxwell) is the head board member during Ripley's investigation that revokes her flying license. Carl Toop is the man in the Alien suit, Adrian Biddle is the Director of Photography, and Gale Anne Hurd one of the producers. Director Harper is good ol' TIM.

And the population of Hadley's Hope did spike; originally, it was sixty-to-seventy families. I increased it for... population reasons.

Ripley's age (94) was based on Sigourney Weaver's age, since she was born in 1949, and the movie came out on 1986, making her 37 years old at the movies' release. The _Nostromo_ went missing for 57 years back in 2121. Ripley was born October 8, 2087 (as Sigourney Weaver's birthday is October 8).


	3. Chapter 3: Saddle Up

Disclaimer: BioWare owns Mass Effect. 20th Century Fox owns the _Aliens_ franchise. 

**Arcturus Station, November 15, 2176**

"Form it up, people!" The brass voice of Gunnery Sergeant Al Apone rang out across the cargo area of the SSV _Sulaco_, the members of the 343 Mobile Infantry moving into formation in a way that didn't suggest too much of a hurry. 2nd Lieutenant Jane Shepard stood to the back of the cargo bay, near one of the UD-4 drop ships, registered as the _Cheyenne_, watching everything in motion as Carter Burke stood to one side of her, watching on silently. "_Hustle_ like you've got some place to go to!" Apone called out once more, the strength of his voice easily dwarfing any and all other noises in the _Sulaco's_ cargo bay, years spent in the Corps having trained the Gunny how to turn his voice into a weapon of authority and intimidation. Shepard and Burke weren't alone as the pile of Marines formed up in a rectangular formation, two columns of men and women spacing themselves out accordingly. There was an Alliance Science Technical Officer, dressed in a standard Alliance Blue Lab Technician dungarees, his nametag reading 'Bishop, L.', standing on the other side of Burke. Next to Shepard on her left hand side was the woman, Ellen Ripley, dressed in a green worker's dungarees, looking a little more in-place among the Alliance members than Burke was, still wearing something resembling a suit. The sports blazer had gone away, replaced with a corporate windbreaker emblazoned with the logo 'WYC' on the breast, and the slacks seemed to be a cheap, durable kind of worker's slacks. He still wore a button-up shirt and a tie, but at least the footwear turned out to be hiking boots, brown and thick. Burke had obviously done something like this before, gone out on the Corporation's dime with a platoon or more of Marines, and didn't look at all like a tourist watching Marines for the first time. "Hudson! Quit fucking around and get your spacing correctly. C'mon, people! Civilians are looking at you. So at least try to look impressive!" The formation finally got squared away, ten men and women standing in front of the Gunnery Sergeant. Apone studied them for a moment with a critical eye, the churchill-sized cigar in his mouth remaining unlit as he chewed on it, his face set in a permanent scowl.

"Aw'right, ladies. I promised you good news, didn't I?" The Gunny spoke out, pacing back and forth in front of the formation of the 343. "Today, we finally got ourselves a new El-Tee." A couple of groans were heard from the ranks, and Apone's face went ugly, canning the complaints department quickly. "Now I know you are going to put your best foot forward," Apone's tone was suggestive; listen or regret it, "and you're going to show her what you got. Do I make myself clear?"

"_Sir, yes sir!_" Ten voices shouted out in unison, ringing throughout the cargo bay. They were certainly loud. Apone chewed on his cigar for a second, looking at the lines in front of him.

"Aw'right. Let me be the first to introduce to you the 343's Platoon Leader, Lieutenant Shepard." Taking her cue, Shepard walked around the formation, standing at parade rest beside the Gunny, who had his fists on his hips, looking at the Marines. "Now Alliance Command has put her in charge of the platoon, and she came with a gift; a brand-new mission for _all_ of us to enjoy." There was some more good-natured groaning, and Shepard let it slide. Discipline was the NCO jobs, and she wasn't about to step on toes on her first day. If the Gunny didn't squash it, then she would turn a blind-eye to it. "So stow your gear, get to your berths, and look alive, people! OPORD and Mission Brief will be conducted en route. _Let's move, Marines!_" The men and women in front of Shepard broke away from the formation in ten different directions, their voices picking up to fill the silence as she turned to Gunnery Sergeant Apone. The man looked at her with an experienced eye, measuring her as he chewed on his cigar, critically analyzing her.

"Well, you look more squared-away than the last dumbass they sent us." The Gunny finally breathed out, pulling the cigar from out of his mouth and holding it in his hand, still looking at her with the eyes of a professional. "Saw your school records. Good grades, graduated top percentile, no demerits; sparkling clean." Shepard said nothing; she knew there was a point to this. "I saw your combat drop on Benning. Normal sweep-and-clean op against some smugglers, right? Read through your report and you made some good, textbook calls. Not bad for a butterbar out of Annapolis." Apone took a step closer, his eyes zeroed in on hers, and to her credit, Shepard didn't back away from the man's intimidation. "But here me out good, El-Tee. This ain't a classroom, and this ain't a 'theoretical scenario'." The Gunny air-quoted the term, and Shepard guessed that a previous Lieutenant had said something of the sort. Annapolis had drilled them with hundreds of 'theoretical scenarios' in the classroom, so she saw what Apone meant; the learning curve just got a hell of a lot steeper, and it could come with casualties. "I'll back your plays like I'm suppose to, but you'd have best listen to me as _you're_ suppose to. I am the voice of experience, and if I tell you that something is a stupid fucking idea, then you can take that to the bank."

"Is that what happened with Gorman?" Shepard asked quietly, searching the man's eyes. "He made a bad call and got himself and others killed?"

"Yes. Yes he did." Apone answered, his voice filled with hate and disgust. "Little peckerhead thought that his college degree made him knowledgable. His ego got not only himself killed, but two fine, hard-working NCO's in the platoon trying to rescue his dumbass. You will _not_ make the same mistake."

"Loud and clear, Gunny." Shepard replied, and she watched the man's face relax as he stuffed his cigar back into his mouth, chewing on it.

"Good. Now follow me up to the bridge. We'll go over the mission while we brief the crew and get this tub of shit up to speed." Apone led the way through the cargo bay, going around one of the M577 GRZLY APC's as Shepard followed him. The _Sulaco_ wasn't a large ship; mostly cargo bay with a crew compartment, a galley, and a bridge for the ship's crew to work in. The SAMC vessel was just a tip of a spear for Alliance efforts, the first stab of the knife, the first shot in a battle, the first assault in a war. It wasn't designed to be comfortable or to have amenities; it was simply meant to deploy Marines onto some spot of rock so they could kill whoever the bad guy was that day. Apone led Shepard out of the cargo bay and into the ship's galley, the lone Navy cook finishing up whatever detail he was on before the ship disembarked, probably prepping the next meal as the Gunny gave the cook a familiar nod of his head, the cook returning it. Shepard didn't merit the same; she was the new kid on the block, and she would learn names and faces later, and earn their respect. Right now, she was just some spitwad butterbar that hadn't proved herself to any of them. She had been told that it would be like that for the few few weeks, or if she sucked at her job, even longer if ever. The galley was small, meant to feed a platoon at a time, and walking through it took little time or effort as they went past the bank of sleeper pods, the vertical 'Navy coffin' that the platoons and Navy crew would hot bunk in. Shepard, as a Lieutenant, merited a small cubicle of a room, containing just enough square meterage for a bed, a small locker, a small table, and a place to stand. She couldn't complain too bad; the Privates and Sergeants didn't even get their own bed. The line of sleeper pods were behind them as the Gunny led Shepard through another door that deposited them in the _Sulaco's_ bridge, a small compartment that consisted of four seats; one for the pilot, one for the navigator, one for astronautics and radar, and finally the last for the Captain of the vessel itself, a Navy Lieutenant Commander who was essentially shanghaied into a Marine Corps vessel, expected to receive orders from one of the Marine Platoon Leaders and send them off to whatever forsaken shithole was unpopular that week. The Lieutenant Commander, a non-plussed man of 30 years named William Hope, sat in his Captain's chair, looking down at the Navy crew. The presence of Gunny Apone had the Navy man look over and give a polite smile to the Gunnery Sergeant, and a nod to Shepard.

"We've received your orders from Arcturus." Commander Hope spoke, his tone sounding as if suffering under the Marine Corps presence was the last thing he had ever wanted to do. "Navigator Pressley has already plotted the course, and we should be underway in an hour once Lieutenant Giler finishes with his pre-flight checks. Now do either one of you want to explain why the hell we're going to the Zeta Herculis Cluster? That's a bit too close to the Brambles Nebula for my liking."

"Colony in the Zeta Reticuli System sent out an emergency distress signal. No further contact reported." Shepard replied, knowing more than Apone, the Gunny letting her do her job. "We're to investigate LV 426 to see what happened. If we're lucky, it's a down transmitter." She decided not to add what would happen if they weren't lucky. Commander Hope could fill-in-the-blanks with his own conclusions.

"Well, we'll be doing this with a short staff and a missing platoon." The Commander scoffed, shaking his head. "The 171 Mobile is on reset-and-refit, and BuPers didn't sign off on any temporary replacements. Plus, about a third of my crew are in the middle of a damn medical examination that will take a few days, and we'll just have to blast off without them. And if I find out who passed around the scale-itch, someone's walking back from Zeta Reticuli." Shepard had to wince at that one. She didn't know what 'scale-itch' was, but it sounded like an STD and it certainly didn't sound pleasant. She'd rather not know. "This LV 426 looks like a real shithole." The Commander looked at the work station on arm of his Captain's chair, going through some files. "Thick atmosphere, high density, too much gravity, high winds… you Marines know how to pick vacation spots."

"Only the best." Shepard replied, making Apone chuckle beside her, the Gunny still chewing on his cigar. If he crewed any further, it would look like a candy bar, she thought to herself snarkly. "We have an idea on ETA?"

"An hour translation from Arcturus to Sol," Hope replied, bringing up his Navigator's work, "with a quick pit stop on Jupiter for discharge and refuel. That's about two hours tacked on, and another hour-and-a-half translation to Zeta Herculis, another hour-and-a-half discharge, and an one hour FTL burn from Beta Reticuli to Zeta Reticuli. We're looking at about eight hours, Lieutenant., including the pre-flight checks. Enough time for some shuteye for your grunts before we arrive in system."

"Good." Shepard looked to Apone, who gave her an approving nod. "We should go. Call me if you need anything, Commander."

"I just might." The Commander replied, his tone really saying _cold day in hell_, which suited Shepard just fine. Both she and the Gunny left the bridge, leaving the Navy to do their jobs as she saw that most of the 343 were grabbing a quick bite to eat and hitting the head before going into their designated sleeper pods. She noted that a couple were already there; no surprise that given a few minutes with nothing to do, a Marine would catch up on sleep. Apone merely grunted as he headed towards the small wing that contained the upper-enlisted and officer rooms, probably to do the same thing. Shepard spied Carter Burke sitting at one of the galley tables, eating what appeared to be a few energy bars. She walked over to the table he occupied by himself and slid into the seat across from him, surprising him for a moment as he tried to swallow a chunk of his energy bar politely in front of her.

"Lieutenant Shepard." Burke said after emptying his mouth, taking a sip from a disposable cup, lemon-lime flavored sports drink by the smell. "I'm surprise you're not heading to your bunk. Most sleep during translation through relays."

"You know how the Navy works; they pad their numbers." Shepard replied, jibbing at her military brethren. "They'll mark up 20% on the flight time, and still somehow show up late. Which means plenty of rack time… if all I were interested in was sleep, Carter." Her response had the bureaucrat's undivided attention as he set down his cup on the table, looking at her with raised eyebrows.

"Well, I guessed since I showed you my place, it's only fair enough that I get to see yours." The mid-level executive replied smoothly, his tone neither superior nor taking anything for granted. "Care to give me a tour of the place?"

"Carter, your just enough of a chauvinist asshole for it to be charming." Shepard replied, standing up from the table, discretely beckoning for him to follow her. "Besides, you just ate enough calories to sustain you for a day. You're gonna have to find a way to burn it off."

* * *

Jane Shepard laid in her small Navy bed, pulling out a clove cigarette from a pack set on her nightstand and stuck it in between her lips, lighting the black, sweet-flavored paper tube with a cheap, disposable lighter, sucking in the first whiffs of the Djarum Black kretek cigarette, the aroma of tobacco and clove permeating the air as she exhaled a small cloud of blue waspish smoke, feeling the pleasant numbing effect that the clove spice had in her throat. Taking an ashtray from the nightstand and placing it on her abdomen, she flicked the first ashes of her cigarette into the metal container, and looked to her side.

Carter Burke laid there, as naked as she, watching her.

"I didn't know they still made clove cigarettes." The bureaucrat commented, looking at the Djarum Black Shepard held between two fingers. "I thought the Alliance banned them or something."

"Yeah, the Phillip-Morris Conglomerate did when they bought all of the cigarette companies, and banned everything else not theirs." Shepard replied, offering the cigarette to Burke, who took it and gave it an experimental inhale. "But the ban didn't include 'little cigars'."

"Yes, the almighty loophole at work." Burke breathed out the smoke, grunting a little bit. "Not bad." He handed the cigarette back to Shepard, who took it back and stuck it in between her lips, inhaling a second breath. "Back when I was a beginning desk jockey for Weyland-Yutani, a young MBA with a minor in accounting, I was given this assignment with a team of other young hopefuls just like me; eager, hungry, and willing to screw over the competition. The assignment was simple, WYC was going to buy out some little manufacturing company only worth billions, and they wanted us to look at their books and finances to see if there was anything alarming the Corporation should know, and if any dirt could be pulled up for a better deal at the negotiation table. For three weeks straight, I don't think anyone else put in less than 20-hour days, going over every piece of electronic documentation like it was a murder scene. It was interesting the different methods the others did to find out information. One guy, Wally Wheeler? Seriously, the guy found the one woman on the Board of Directors, sweet-talked her, hacked her personal terminal, and came back with all sorts of problems. Come to find out that the company was tanked and were padding their books, so all the information we were looking at was falsified."

"Huh. You always hear about girls fucking their way up the ladder…" Shepard snorted, taking another inhale. "Is it like that in the Corporate world? I mean, people talk about it and guess, but it's different when someone's willing to come out and say it."

"It can be brutal." Burke admitted, content to just lay on the small bed, not feeling the need to get into any unnecessary touchie-feelie, which suited her just fine; Shepard wasn't a cuddler. "You've always got to watch your back and make sure your work is impeccable. And you got one thing right; the women do like to try to fuck their way to the top. More often than not, they find themselves the ones who are screwed through when the top-tier guys extort them with videographic evidence on how the women started the liaison, and claim sexual harassment."

"Well, we did want gender equality. I guess we got what we asked for." Shepard shook her head, amazed by what she was hearing. Of course, she knew that it was _possibly_ true that something like that happened, but to hear it? She snorted. "Makes me glad I went military."

"Me, too." The mid-level executive replied, making Shepard turn her head to look at him. "Look, I'm not under any illusions as to what this is. You're with me because everyone else on this boat's military, and either you out-rank, or out-rank you. You're with me because I'm the good option, and I'm definitely not complaining about the benefits." Burke's hand slid onto Shepard's body, sliding up the curve of her thigh, belling out around her hip and sliding inward with her waist before reaching for the peak of her right breast, cupping it sensually. "I've got the same reasons; you're not out to get me, get over me, or find some dirt to hold above me. You're the good option for me, too."

"Huh. I never thought of it that way." The Lieutenant admitted, a little ashamed that she had been figured out. Burke didn't seem to have a problem with it though, being the 'safe' option. Evidently, she was, too. "So you don't trust the Corporate women?"

"Like I trust a Batarian." The bureaucrat leveled dryly, making Shepard laugh, flicking more ashes into the tray.

A/N: In the movie, the _Sulaco_ looks to be about Carrier-Class or Dreadnaut-Class, which wouldn't work out well in the ME Universe. So, I invented the Corvette-Class, smaller than a Frigate, and basically a space-version of a personnel carrier. In the movie, the _Sulaco_ seemed completely unmanned during the deployment, forcing Bishop to use the colony transmitter to get the second UD-4 drop ship to deploy and rescue the survivors. This plot hole will be rectified, as who in the hell in their right mind would leave a running vessel unmanned?

Lieutenant Commander William Hope is based off the actor William Hope, who plays Lt. Gorman.

Flight Lieutenant David Giler is based off the writer David Giler, who co-penned the story Aliens.

The MBA Wally Wheeler is based off the Visual Effects Gaffer Wally Wheeler, who was a gaffer for Aliens.

Clove cigarettes, banned in the United States, are about 60-70% tobacco, and 30-40% tobacco laced with nicotine, and are not proven to be safer than regular cigarettes. Yet clove comes with an interesting property; eugenol, an ingredient that dentists used as an anesthetic. It is known to numb the throat and impair the gag reflex. Djarum Black cigarettes is one of the world's most popular brand of clove cigarettes, and is commonly found in India and Indonesia. The name 'kretek' comes from the sound it makes when lit or inhaled.

Phillip-Morris, a part of the Altria Group, is Marlboro (along with a huge list of others), which owns a percentage of the Miller Brewing Company, bought General Foods, and Kraft Foods.


	4. Chapter 4: Express Elevator To Hell

Disclaimer: BioWare owns Mass Effect. 20th Century Fox owns the _Aliens_ franchise. 

**Zeta Reticuli System, November 15, 2176**

"Uh, they ain't paying us enough for this shit, man."

2nd Lieutenant Jane Shepard was lacing up her boots by one of the galley tables as the sleeper pods opened one-by-one, the _Sulaco's_ VI opening up the compartments to awaken the personnel inside for their arrival. Gunnery Sergeant Al Apone was already up and dressed, wearing his blue patrol cap and chomping away on a cigar as he walked down the line of sleeper pods as one-by-one the Marines woke up, groggy from their sleep.

"Not enough to have to wake up to your face, Drake." One of the female Marines responded.

"What? Is that a joke?" The one identified as Drake returned, obstinate.

"I wish it were." The woman returned as Shepard calmly laced up her boot and bloused her uniform pant leg in its appropriate spot.

"Hicks, you look just like I feel." Came Drake's voice again, answered with an audible grunt from one of the other Marines as Gunny Apone began to speak, his voice dominating the room.

"Aw'right! Whattya' waiting for, breakfast in bed? Let's go, let's go!" The Gunnery Sergeant spoke, his brass voice deep with authority and ridicule, walking up and down the line of sleeper pods, making sure that everyone was up and moving, Shepard noted. "Ah, another glorious day in the Corps! A day in the Corps is like a day on the farm! Every meal a banquet, ever paycheck a fortune, every formation a parade. I _love_ the Corps!"

"Geez! This floor is _freezing_!" Another Marine complained, and Shepard saw the man dancing on the metal floor in an effort not to keep his feet in contact with it.

"What? Whatcha' want me to do? You want me to fetch some slippers for you?" Apone retorted belligerently, eyeballing the Marine in question.

"Gee, would you, sir? I'd like that." The man returned, completely nonplussed, almost making Shepard laugh as she laced up her other boot.

"Look into my eye." The Gunny growled in response, and the Marine elected not to respond to that one. "Fall in, people! Let's go! First ensemble is in fifteen! Shag it!

"I hate this job." Another Marine grouched as a line of men and women Marines began to file from the line of sleeper pods, dressed only in black tank-tops and black boxer-briefs as Shepard finished with her boot, and started blousing the other pant leg. Most of them walked by without glancing at her, though one of the male Marines did, giving her a casual nod of his head as they moved to the locker area where their personal effects were stored. One of the female Marines, instead of going to her locker, instead jumped up and grabbed one of the ceiling's bars, proceeding to to chin-up. She knocked out ten of them with speed and ease. Shepard recognized her; Private First Class Jeanette Vasquez, Squad Automatic Gunner. She was impressed with what she saw, Vasquez manned the M56 Marshal Light Machine Gun, a long and heavy weapon that was normally assigned to tall, strong men. Vasquez looked like she cleared 5'3". A man joined her doing pull-ups, clearly the powerhouse of the platoon. That one was Drake, the other Squad Automatic Gunner. Watching the two of them doing pull-ups, Shepard couldn't help but note the contrast about them while performing the same job; Drake an obvious tall, strong Scandinavian man while Vasquez was a short Mexican _señora_ complete with a red bandana wrapped around her forehead.

"Hey, Vasquez?" The Marine who complained about the freezing floor spoke up, getting the female Marine's attention. "Ever been mistaken for a man?"

"Nope." The woman let go of the bar, landing on the ship's flooring with a thud as she put her hands on her hips and looked right at the man with a steely glare. "Have you?"

"Ooo, Vasquez, you just too bad." Drake complimented her, holding out his hand for an acknowledgement. Vasquez smiled and slapped his hand, both of them gripping the others' hand in an arm wrestling fashion, the Scandinavian easily dwarfing the Mexican, yet she never backed down nor gave up an inch. The camaraderie finished up with Vasquez giving Drake's face a hard, playful slap, the taller Marine grinning as he took it like a man, not even flinching from it. From the little she saw, Shepard could tell that the two of them made one hell of a team. Most of the Marines were dressed and started filing into the galley, where a Navy cook had already prepared a line of food to be served. A small queue formed up as each grabbed a tray and started serving themselves. Shepard waited for the enlisted to get their food first before going to the end of the line, picking up a tray and seeing her choices; Navy eggs, Navy bacon, Navy gravy, and… surprise, Navy cornbread. She took a helping of each and loaded up her tray and selected a cup of coffee before retreating to the table closest to the sleeper pods, facing her platoon so she could watch them interact. Burke and the Science Tech, Bishop, were already sitting down and eating their breakfast when she joined them, and Ripley joined them after a moment.

"So what's the op, Gunny?" The loud-mouth spoke again, and Shepard finally remembered who the Marine was suppose to be; PFC Bill Hudson, the squad's technician.

"It's a rescue mission, you'll love it!" Gunny Apone, sitting with the rest of the Marines, replied in a jovial tone, his voice loud enough to be heard throughout the galley. "See? There's some juicy colonists' daughters that are in need of rescue from their virginities." That had most of the male Marines laughing out loud.

"Shhhiiit. Dumbass colonists." One of the other Marines lamented, complaining good-naturedly. "What's this crap suppose to be, anyhow?" The man held up something in question that looked to Shepard like it was suppose to be a biscuit but failed.

"Cornbread, I think." Another supplied, his tone uncertain.

"It's good for you, Spunk. Eat it." Another Marine ordered without any force.

"I sure wouldn't mind getting me some of that Arcturus poontang. Remember last time?" Cornbread-guesser commented, slapping palms with Hudson from across the table while the Marines around them laughed.

"Yeah, Frost, but the one you had was a post-op." That came from Spunk, or Spunkmeyer, amidst the laughing Marines.

"Shit. Don't matter as long as the lights are out and she's got the necessary holes." Frost defended himself easily. Shepard had to shake her head at that one; and these were the men she was going to lead.

"Hey, Bishop! Do the thing with the knife!" Hudson called out, holding up a standard-issued Marine Corps Ka-Bar in his hand, gripping the blade in a way so it wouldn't cut him. Shepard took a look at the Science Technician, who merely rolled his eyes.

"Oh, please. Not again." The balding man lamented, shaking his head as he stood from his seat, moving over to the Marines. Shepard peered over to see what was happening, interested. _The thing with the knife_ implied a lot.

"Yeah, Bishop!" Frost added, all smiles. "Go on, man. This is great!" Bishop took the knife and put his palm on the table while Drake snuck up behind Hudson. The Scandinavian came up behind the team's technician, taking his hand and forcing down on the table, Bishop covering it on his own.

"Hey, man! Whatcha doing?" Hudson asked, his voice going up an octave in panic. "C'mon! Quit messin'!" Shepard saw the PFC struggle against the Scandinavian who held him down without visible effect.

"Hudson! Shut up!" Drake told him, pinning him effectively. "Do it, Bishop!"

"Trust me." Bishop said, the knife stabbing into the table in between the spread fingers of Hudson and Bishop, slow at first, until the knife began to speed up. Hudson screamed one long word as the knife went faster, stabbing in a blur in a series of gaps at some pattern only Bishop seemed to know, the 'tack' of each stab coming in at several a second. Bishop committed his last stop, the knife stopped in between a pair of fingers as he removed his hand away from Hudson's handing the knife back to the PFC. "Thank you."

"T-that wasn't funny, man." Hudson complained, his face white and hand trembling. The other Marines were laughing as Bishop made his way back to their table, sucking on one of his fingers, a small rivulet of red tracing down from a nick.

"Thought you didn't miss, Bishop?" Burke asked, seeing the Science Tech Officer sucking the blood away from the cut. Bishop merely looked up from his finger and right at the bureaucrat.

"I don't." The man smiled, and Shepard and Ripley shared a look with one another; creepy.

"Squad! Ten-hut! Officer on deck!"

Gunnery Sergeant Al Apone's voice rang out through the cargo bay of the _Sulaco_, calling upon the attention of the 343 as they joked and waited, 2nd Lieutenant Jane Shepard walking towards the congregated Marines, along with Carter Burke and Ellen Ripley. The Marines, for the most part, were lounging about near some crates and cargo boxes, either sitting, leaning, or resting a leg against them, with one of the Marines holding onto a nearby hanging chain, almost appearing to be dangling from it. With Apone's voice, the Marines stopped what they were doing, their eyes focusing on herself as she approached them, stopping at an appropriate distance away to where she could see them all in a glance.

"As you were." Shepard replied, giving them the order to relax so that they could listen to her as she talked. She noted that only she and Gunny Apone were the only ones in full Alliance Blues; the rest of the squad were in fragrant violations of the Military Uniform Wear and Appearance. Almost all had their blouses off, showing the standard black Underarmor t-shirts. A few were wearing their Patrol Caps either backwards or sideways. The _chica_, Vasquez, had her red bandana wrapped around her forehead, covering what little black, spiky hair she had. A few were smoking cigarettes. She decided to let it slide, feeling a little out of place dressed in her full Blues, complete with her blue beret. Apone had his customary cigar in hand, lit this time, puffing away.

"Quickly! Quickly! Settle down!" Apone called out, stalking behind her like a panther, his eyes seeking out any that dared disobey. He moved to one side of her as Shepard pulled out her datapad, turning on the device as Apone barked again. "Aw'right! Listen up!"

"Good morning, Marines." Shepard began, standing at parade rest in front of her platoon, the datapad held behind her. "I apologize that we didn't have time to brief you before we headed out from Arcturus…"

"Sir?" One of the Marines, Hudson, raised his hand as if they were in a classroom. "Is this going to be a stand-up fight, or another bug hunt?" Shepard sighed at that; go figure, the rumor mill was better than Alliance intelligence.

"All we know is that there is still no contact from the colony, and that…" _here comes the moment of truth_, Shepard thought to herself, "a _xenomorph_ may be involved."

"Excuse me, sir? A _what_?" That came from Frost, his dark face skeptical.

"A xenomorph." She replied again, trying not to lose her temper or her composure. That was what the Alliance had tagged the creature that had very little in the way of data on it save it didn't match any other known species out in the galaxy. Despite the records from the _Nostromo_, there hadn't been one good image of the creature that Ripley had encountered, just her descriptive words.

"It's a bug hunt." The Marine gripping the dangling chain replied to Frost's benefit, essentially summing up most of what Shepard was going to tell them. "What exactly are we dealin' with, here?" That was the kind of question Shepard understood better; a need for intelligence to better prepare. It took her a second to recall the name of the Marine who had asked it. Hicks, Corporal Hicks, the one she'd thought might make a good Sergeant. Shepard merely turned to Ripley, giving the woman a nod. Ripley, despite her survivor's guilt and skittishness in her apartment, was all business now, dressed in her Alliance worker jumpsuit. She took a few steps forward as Shepard moved out of the way to give the _Nostromo's_ only survivor the floor.

"I'll tell you what I know." Ripley began, clearing her throat, looking a little nervous for a second now that she was addressing a squad of Marines, all of their eyes on her. God, Shepard hoped the woman didn't get stage fright. "We set down on LV 426. One of our crew members, Kane, was brought back on board with something attached to his face...some kind of parasite." Ripley's sentences were clipped and disjointed, and it was easy to tell that she was trying to recall the incident without recalling the memories of it. "We… we tried to get it off, but it wouldn't come off. Later, it seemed to come off by itself and died. Kane seemed fine. We're all having dinner and um…" Ripley slammed her eyes shut, her breathing coming in fast and forced, "it must have laid something inside his throat...some sort of embryo. He started...um he… _convulsed_… and it…" The woman's voice failed her, and Shepard could see Ripley's hands were made into tight fists, her knuckles white. Damn, the fear had won out again.

"Look, man." Vasquez called out, her accented voice bringing Ripley back to reality. "I only need to know one thing; _where_… _they_… _are_!" The Mexican Marine mimed a gun with her hand, aiming it in a non-specific location, and pretended to blow something away with it.

"Yo! Vasquez, kick ass!" The large Scandinavian, Drake, hooted, giving the short Marine a high-five.

"Anytime. Anywhere." The Squad Automatic Gunner promised.

"Right! Right! Somebody said _alien_… and Vasquez thought they meant '_illegal alien_' and signed up!" Hudson teased out loud.

"Fuck you, _pendejo_!" Vasquez countered, giving the squad's technician a one-fingered salute.

"Anytime. Anywhere." Hudson promised with a smirk. What a bunch of children.

"_Are you finished?_" Ripley countered loudly, the Marines' reactions obviously having their effect on the woman as Ripley took several steps forward, locking eyes with Vasquez, the timidness and the fear gone. Shepard finally saw it; the will of the woman that survived something that killed her entire crew. "I hope you're right. I really do." Ripley's tone dropped, quiet but dangerous, filled with steel. "Because just one of those things managed to wipe out my crew in less than twenty-four hours. And if the colonists have found that ship…" Ripley's voice broke there for a moment, and Shepard could tell that the woman had everyone's attention. "There's no telling how many of them have been exposed. Do you understand?" Surprisingly, while none of the Marines replied, they all seemed to have taken her seriously. That was good; that was exactly the reason Shepard wanted Ripley to come in the first place.

"Thank you, Ripley." The Lieutenant called out, letting the woman know that she had made her point. Ripley looked back and nodded, retreating back to her previous position at Burke's side. "We also have Ripley's report on datapad, so I suggest you study it…" Hudson raised his hand, a shit-eating grin on his face. Shepard fought the urge to sigh out loud. "What is it, Private?" She couldn't help the suffering tone in her voice.

"How do I get out of this chickenshit outfit?" Hudson smiled, his face almost manic in appearance.

"You secure that shit, Hudson!" Gunny Apone pounced, pointing his lit stogie at the Marine, his eyes as hard and as sharp as daggers. Hudson's face dropped, and Shepard hope that would be the end of his fool-in-motley routine.

"Alright!" Shepard spoke up, using what she called her '_command_' voice. "Now listen up! I want this thing to go smooth… and by the numbers." She eyeballed the Marines in front of her, making sure she had their attention. "I want DCS and tactical simulations by 1130." There were a few groans at that, only having a few hours to do what should amount to an hours' worth of work. "Ordinance load, weapons strip, and drop-ship prep detail will have seven hours." More groaning, with Vasquez piping up with _c'mon, man_ in the background. "Now move it, people!"

"Aw'right, people!" Apone stepped up, his turn at-bat. "You heard the lady and you know the drill! Assholes and elbows! Hudson! C'm here! _Come_… here!" The Gunnery Sergeant pointed at a spot directly in front of him as the Marines began to leave their spots, moving to fulfill her orders. Shepard walked away from her spot, moving to the M577 GRZLY APC, walking around the Armored Personnel Carrier to where none of the Marines could see her. She found herself leaning on an ammo crate, and to her surprise, she was hyperventilating, having to hold herself up with her arms. She leaned there for a few moments, the uncertainty that had swelled within her slowly dissipating as she wiped at the sweat on her forehead, pulling off her beret beforehand to do so.

"Ma'am? You okay?"

The voice had her jump a little bit, and Shepard spun to see one of the Marines standing there, a concerned look upon his face. It was Corporal Hicks.

"You saw that?" Shepard asked, a little mortified at the thought as Hicks nodded his head. "Gods. I don't know what came over me. Just…"

"You realizin' that your orders mean the difference between our lives and our deaths." Hicks nodded, taking a seat on another ammo crate, relaxed. Shepard assumed the same, leaning against a crate herself, folding her arms across her chest. "I had the same thin' happen to me when I was put in charge of a team. Realized that a bad call could get my squadmates killed. Almost happened a few times, too." Shepard found herself listening to Hicks. He was, after all, an NCO with battle experience. She remembered Apone's directive; it was her job to listen to the voice of experience. "It gets easier with time. Sometimes, I can even fake it, acting like I know exactly what the hell is goin' on and that it's nothin' new to me. Between you and me," the Corporal leaned forward conspiratorially, "if you ever meet a man who's completely confident on what's goin' on, do yourself a favor; run in the other direction." That had Shepard laugh a little.

"How I'm doing?"

"First time? Not bad." Hick's hand came up and did a see-saw. "Loosen up a little. This ain't Annapolis; you don't have to be picture perfect. What the men want, what they _really_ want… is someone higher-up to give a shit about their lives. Last El-Tee, Gorman? Acted like we were drones and chess pieces. He got killed 'cuz he wanted to act the hero and tried to negotiate with pirates. But if there was one thin' I could say about Gorman, it was that he went on the ground with his men. Might have had a major stick up his ass, might have walked in the back, but he carried a rifle and slugged it in the mud with the rest of us grunts. Somethin' like that earns a lot of credit in our eyes."

"That I can do." Shepard replied, nodding slowly. "Loosen up? Do I need to start smoking a cigar, or would casual swearing and scratching where it itches be just fine?" The way she delivered it dead-panned had Hicks laughing hard enough to almost spill himself off the ammo crate.

"Well, with a mouth like that… shoot a little shit." Hicks advised, still chuckling. "Hudson opens his fat mouth? Shut him down. You'd be surprised how quickly we'll respect someone who can hand out a ration of shit as well as take it. It's all in good fun."

"Okay, and Hicks?" The Corporal had gotten up to leave, but turned to look at Shepard. "Thanks."

"No prob, El-Tee." The Marine smiled. "_Semper Fi_."

* * *

2nd Lieutenant Jane Shepard stood in the locker area with the rest of the Marines, putting on her Aldrin Labs Onyx armor, clipping the chest piece into place before picking up one of the arm bracers and sliding her right arm through it. The rest of the men and women of the 343 Mobile Infantry were likewise getting ready, dressing up and arming themselves appropriately, joking and smoking as they did so. Her bracer locked into place, Shepard slid her left arm into the other bracer, locking it into place and doing a quick test with her arms for mobility, rotating her torso to make sure everything was a proper fit. She had forwent her Alliance Blue top, opting to wear just her issued Underarmor top under her armor, as she had seen the rest of her platoon doing. Hudson, of course, made the first comment when she tossed the top, ogling her breasts and nudging Corporal Hicks to let him know that _El-Tee's got a serious chest infection_. She had leveled the Private a look of scorn that had surprisingly shut the man up for a change. Vasquez, who had been next to her, equally getting ready, had said _no está mal_, 'not bad'.

Satisfied that her Onyx Armor was fit and secured, Shepard began grabbing her assigned weapons from her locker; a M7 Lancer Assault Rifle that went over one shoulder, a M3 Predator Heavy pistol that got clipped to her left hip, and a M9 Tempest Sub-machine Gun that she put on the right side of her armor's belt for a quick grab. She then placed five M67 Fragmentation Disk Grenades on the left side of her belt, completing her load out. Vasquez was putting on the harness for her M56 Marshal Light Machine Gun with Smart Tracking System, the steady-cam arm connected to the Squad Automatic Gun. She was going through a series of motions, testing the arm's servos and the gun's connection, satisfied with its results. Shepard watched, impressed with the woman's toughness. The Marshal was easily a 20 kilo weapon, and the harness another 15. Despite her small stature, Vasquez was easily comfortable with the weapon's weight. Drake sauntered up next to Vasquez, going through the same motions, the Scandinavian giving Vasquez a nod as she gave him a thump on his armored bicep, indicating that she was ready to go.

"Aw'right, squad!" Gunnery Sergeant Apone's voice came as the man himself walked into the assembly area, fully loaded and ready to go, given the platoon a pep talk. "We're a team, and there's nothing to worry about. We come here, we gonna conquer, and we're gonna kick some! Is that understood?"

"_Sir! Yes, sir!_" The Marines around Shepard shouted in response, motivated.

"That's what we're going to do, sweethearts!" Apone promised, his voice a cheerful growl. "We are going to go and get some! Aw'right, people! On the ready-line! Are you _lean_?"

"_Hoo-rah!_"

"Are you _mean_!"

"_Hoo-rah!_"

"WHAT ARE YOU?"

"LEAN, MEAN MARINES!"

"SAY IT LOUD!"

"WE'RE MARINES!"

"Hudson, get on the ready line!" Apone called out, the PFC in question rushing towards the M577 GRZLY. "Marines, get some today!" Apone's voice started going in a cadence, a timing and volume that pumped everyone up, Shepard included. "Get on the ready line! Get-it-out, get-it-out, get-it-out! Move-it-out, move-it-out, move-it-out! Move-it-out, move-it-out, move-it-out!" The Marines hustled towards the APC, running in time with the Gunny's voice as he ran beside them through the cargo bay of the _Sulaco_. "One-two-three-four, one-two-_three_!" The platoon was lined up by the door of the APC as Apone let out a cougar-like growl of approval as he walked up and down the line. "Absolute _badasses_! Get in there! Let's pack 'em in!" Hudson opened the door to the APC to let the Marines file in, giving high-fives to each as they passed them, giving each a hearty '_Go!_' with every successful slap of the hand. Shepard was the last one in, Hudson giving her a high-five before realizing who she was, giving her a bit of a sheepish look. She rectified it by giving him a friendly strike on his shoulder pad with her fist. That earned her a quirk of a smile as she filed in, moving to the Mobile Tactical Operations Bay seat reserved for her on the GRZLY, where a bank of haptic monitors let her see the view of everyone's helmet viewers; she would see what they saw. She gave each a glance, seeing vital signs, monitor activity, and distance in relation to the M577. So far, so good.

"Hudson! Lock 'em in!" Apone growled from behind her.

"Ready to get it on, you know it!" The PFC called out, and Shepard turned to see the Marine checking each of the squadmates, seeing that their crash bars were secured properly.

"Bishop?" Shepard called out over her throat-mike communicator, relaying her words to the Alliance Science Technician Officer who was sitting in the APC's driver's seat. "Let's go."

"_Roger, Lieutenant._" The man replied through her earpiece, and she could feel the GRZLY accelerate, the front view haptic monitor showing that Bishop was driving them directly underneath the UD-4 drop-ship, connecting them with the vessel. "_APC locked in with the _Cheyenne_, Lieutenant._" The Science Officer informed her over the communicator as Hudson went to her last, checking her own crash bar for a proper lock.

"I'm ready, man. Ready to get… it… _on_!" Hudson called out, clearly excited and loving every coming minute as he gave Vasquez a high-five when she put out her hand for him. He then went into his own seat, locking himself in, grinning like a little boy in a candy shop.

"_Good morning, Marines, and thank you for flying Navy Air!_" Came the voice of Warrant Officer Colette Ferro over the APC's intercom system, the speaker located in the ceiling. "_Please observe the 'no crying' sign above you, lock your seats into the upright position, and remember; if you puke in my bird, I'm going to use your face as a sponge… Crowe._" That had a few Marines laughing.

"I told you it was the shit Navy food!" Private Crowe called out, looking up to the intercom in which the pilot's voice came from.

"_Welcome, and thank you for choosing Navy Air; depositing your ass into alien-infested shitholes since 2157._" Ferro called out, getting a few snickers from the Marines, and a bit of a wild look on Ripley's face as the woman looked around her. Shepard had to remember to ask the woman if she even knew that humanity had discovered other aliens besides the one that killed off the _Nostromo's_ crew.

"_Stand by._" Ferro's voice came again, purely professional now. "_Cross-locking… now. Prelaunch auto-cycle… engaged. Primary couplers…_" The APC shook slightly. "_…Released. Hitting the internals._" The APC rocked again, more violently this time, making Hudson swear and Ripley look around nervously. Shepard could feel her own stomach sway. Shit, she hope she didn't puke. "_Confirm cross-lock and drop stations secured._"

"Affirmative. All drop stations secured." Shepard confirmed over her throat-mike, seeing the haptic display showing everything in the green. _Just a few more seconds…_

"_Stand-by. Ten seconds._" The sound of a klaxon alarm outside the APC penetrated the metal walls as everyone prepared themselves in their own way. Hudson looked elated. Vasquez was chewing gum. Hicks was… asleep? "_Stand-by to initiate release sequencer… on my mark…_"

"_Five…_"

"We're on the express elevator to hell!" Hudson whooped.

"_Four…_"

"Going down!"

"_Three…_ "

Shepard held her breath and closed her eyes, willing herself not to vomit.

"_Two…_"

_Oh Gods, this was it…_

"_One… MARK!_"

"YYYYYEEEEEEE-HHHHHAAAAAWWWWWW!" Hudson cried out as down became up as the UD-4 drop-ship plummeted from the belly of the _Sulaco_, falling straight towards the moon of LV 426, quickly reach terminal velocity. The APC rattled as the ignition of the _Cheyenne's_ engines made it go even faster, the vessel and it's APC shaking violently as they breached atmo. Shepard was still holding her breath, and chanced opening her eyes. _Well, we're not dead, yet…_

"_Switching to DCS ranging._" Warrant Officer Ferro called out over the intercom, her tone almost bored.

"_Two-four-zero, nominal to profile."_ Came the voice of Petty Officer 3rd Class Daniel Spunkmeyer, the _Cheyenne's_ Crew Chief.

"_We're in the pipe, five-by-five_." Ferro's voice was jovial, perhaps meant to make them feel better as the ship continued to fall and shake, vibrating at an alarming rate.

"_Picking up hull ionization._" Spunkmeyer called out. Static discharge from lightning, Shepard told herself.

"_Got it. Rough air ahead. We're in for some chop._" Shepard almost cursed out loud as the violent bouncing and vibrating got even worse, making her wonder how much the _Cheyenne_ and the APC could take before they were ripped apart miles above ground. Hopefully, it was quick. Like, instantaneous.

"How many drops is this for you, Lieutenant?"

Shepard opened her eyes, looking at Ripley, surprised that the woman was asking her that question.

"Thirty-eight… simulated." She admitted sheepishly.

"How many _combat_ drops?" Vasquez asked, her eyes a little wide.

"Um. Two. Including this one." Shepard noticed the exchange of looks the Marines gave one another, as well as Drake's assessment of _shit_, as well as Hudson's comment of _oh, man…_ Shit. She should have lied. Now she sounded like a complete rookie.

"_Range zero-one-four. Turning on final._" Ferro informed them all as the ship backed hard port, making Shepard almost lose her lunch. Damn it. How the hell was _Hicks_ asleep through all this?

"I'm telling you man, I got a bad feeling on this drop." Frost told the Marine next to him, his voice calm for such a morbid prediction.

"You always say that, Frost." The Marine, Private Trevor Wierzbowski, replied. "'_I've got a bad feeling on this drop'._" Shepard admitted that Wierzbowski didn't do a half-bad impression of Frost.

"Okay, okay. But if we get back without you…" Frost implied with a smile, "I'm calling up your sister."

_Like children_, Shepard shook her head as she turned her chair to the Mobile Tactical Operations Bay, looking at the feeds, scrutinizing each. She was satisfied with what she saw save for one…

"Drake!" She called out, getting a grunt from the Squad Automatic Gunner. "Check your camera! There's seems to be a malfunction…" There was a resounding thump, and the monitor now displayed a correct image instead of static. "…That's better. Pan around." The image showed Frost, Wierzbowski, Crowe, and Dietrich. "Good." She looked over to Gunny Apone, and gave him a nod, indicating that everything was in the clear and ready. Apone opened up his crash bar, Hudson doing the same as he walked up and down the APC, doing his own version of a pep talk.

"I'm ready, man." Hudson called out, hanging onto the belt of his armor. "Check… it… out! I… am the _ultimate_ badass. State-of-the-badass art! You do _not_ want to _fuck_ with me." There was a catcall from Crowe, getting into it. "Ripley, check it out, man!" The PFC moved over to the woman. "Don't worry! Me and my squad of ultimate badasses will protect you." A few cheers rang out from that, and Shepard had to hide a smile. "Check this shit out!" Hudson thumped something on the ceiling. "Independent targeting, mass acceleration phalanx cannon. WHAP!" Hudson paused for effect. "Take out a city block with this puppy!" Hudson's grin grew manic again. "We got tactical smart missiles, mass accelerated assault rifles, rocket launchers, and sonic electronic _ballbreakers_!" There was a whoop of excitement from the cabin of the APC. "We've got nukes! We've got knives! We've got sharp sticks…"

"Hudson? Knock it off." Apone called out, the Gunny rubbing his eyes, probably getting a headache from Hudson's mouth. "Aw'right, gear up! Two minutes, people! Get hot! And somebody wake up Hicks."

A/N: Aliens is considered one of the best Sci-fi _and_ military-oriented movies of all time, and a large part of it is due to the dialogue. Hudson and Vasquez had great parts, and it's interesting to note that Jeanette Goldstein, who played PFC Vasquez, had never served in the military, wasn't an avid gym jockey, nor had she ever shot a gun in her life. Yet PFC Vasquez is commonly accepted as one of cinema's top female bad-asses. She did end up winning the Saturn Award for her part in Aliens as Best Supporting Actress. This was from a woman who (later seen in the movie as a jab from Bill Paxton that was added by James Cameron) heard that the movie was called Aliens… and thought it really was about illegal aliens and signed up, wearing a short skirt and high heels to her audition.

Alliance Science Technical Officer Lance Bishop is a home-grown human being with a high-end IQ of about 140, making him just under a genius. In other words, he's not a 'synthetic person', as this would be an AI, and illegal in Counsel Space.


	5. Chapter 5: Nobody's Home

Disclaimer: BioWare owns Mass Effect. 20th Century Fox owns the _Aliens_ franchise.

**LV-426, November 15, 2176**

"Okay, Chief Ferro," 2nd Lieutenant Jane Shepard spoke into her throat-mike, getting in contact with the UD-4's pilot, Warrant Officer Ferro. "Take us in lower over the main colony complex." Shepard watched the monitors with Gunnery Sergeant Apone next to her, looking at the same thing she was. The Cheyenne dipped slightly as the colony came into view, displayed on the Lieutenants' Mobile Tactical Operations Bay. The haptic display showed the colony of Hadley's Hope, and nothing looked promising. "Storm shutters are sealed. No visible outside activity. Alright, hold at forty."

"_Roger_." The pilot replied over her earpiece. Nothing that either she or Apone saw indicated that anything was going on, good or bad. Ripley moved up to the other side of Shepard, leaning in and looking at the monitors.

"Give me a slow circle of the complex, Chief." Shepard ordered, her eyes only on the monitors as the image shifted, showing a slow loop of the entire complex. Again, nothing indicated that anything was wrong… save for the lack of activity. True, it was raining hard on LV 426, with a wind that was gusting in the 60 knot range, but that was standard, according to the dossier on the colony. Something the colonists should be more than use to. Plus, it was near dinner time, the height of the work day. There should be somebody working. A crawler, a loader, even a YMIR loader mech moving about. But there was nothing.

"Structure seems intact." Ripley allowed, looking at the feed. "They still got power." Lights were shining from the landing pad, and the external floodlights were still operating. That didn't mean much, Shepard knew; those were run by VI's as long as the plant kept generating power, which was probably automated and regulated by VI's and maintenance mechs. Theoretically, the place could run without humans for a hundred years or more.

"Okay, Ferro. Set down on the landing pad." Shepard told the pilot. "Immediate dust-off on my clear and stay on station."

"_Roger_."

"Wierzbowski!" Shepard called back, the Private moving up through the APC to her position. Apone and Ripley both gave the Marine space as she turned to face him. "You've got TOC duty."

"Wai… what?" The Private looked at her dumbly, as if she just spoke Asari. Shepard got out of her seat and decided to explain it to him.

"Chair." She pushed him into the seat, Wierzbowski landing in it with a thump. "Monitors." She pushed the chair towards the Mobile Tactical Operations Bay, where he faced the monitors. "Radio." She pointed at the microphone that was situated in front of the monitors. "Questions?"

"Why do I get TOC duty?" Wierzbowski asked, still confused, evidently.

"Because Mama Bear wants a piece of ass, and somebody's got to stay home and watch the kids." Shepard patted the top of the Private's helmet, much to his indignation as she heard just about everyone snicker on the APC as she got into the ready line with the rest of the Marines. They were all looking at her, sizing her up. Hicks gave her a flicker of his eyebrows, popping them up twice. _No está mal_. The APC rocked as the Cheyenne landed on the landing pad.

"_Down and clear._" The pilot called out. The GRZLY lurched forward as Bishop drove the APC forward, the sound of the drop-ship flying away overhead fading quickly as the vehicle jumbled and vibrated over the terrain of the moon, making the Marines grab the ceiling rungs of the M577 to steady themselves.

"Ten seconds, people! Look sharp!" Apone ordered, glaring at the Marines, giving them a once-over. "Aw'right! I want a nice, clean dispersal this time. El-Tee? You're with Hicks' squad." Shepard nodded, moving over to the second squad's line. Nobody seemed to be trading glances this time, at least. The APC lurched again with the brakes, and the crew door of the GRZLY flew open. "Let's go! Move it out! Head 'em out!"

Marines exited the APC, hitting the ground running as Shepard took to running behind PFC Vasquez, the Squad Automatic Gunner running with her M56 Marshal pointed straight out, ready to use at a moments' notice as Shepard herself had her M7 Lancer in hand, holding it close to her chest. The platoon headed strait for cover, a low-slung metal wall that surrounded the colony with a permanent opening. She crept up to the opening, Apone doing the same on the other side of the opening, the both of them using the scopes on their Lancers to peer ahead. The rain that was pouring from LV 426's sky made it hard to see much further, so Shepard turned hers onto thermal, getting a little bit better of a view of the colony complex. Rain, mud, metal buildings, exterior lights… but nothing else.

"Apone, get your squad up on line." Shepard called out on her throat-mike, lowering her rifle. "Hicks? We've got the cordon and'll watch the rear."

"_Drake, take point_." Apone called out, the Scandinavian moving forward first, his Marshal leading him as he sprinted towards a heavy-duty tractor. Two seconds after he started running, the rest of Apone's team followed, the Gunny Sergeant followed by Hudson, Frost, and Crowe. Shepard peered around the wall, seeing the team take their position by the tractor, Apone, pointing out to Drake to move forward. "_Move up!_" Drake runs for the doors, standing in front of it with feet set and gun ready as the rest of the team took to either side of the wall, stacking up on it. Apone tests the door's controls. "_Hudson? Run a bypass._" Door controls weren't working?

"Second squad? Move up, flanking positions!" Shepard called out to the Marines behind her, tapping Vasquez to go first as she went in hot on the Gunner's heels. They took their positions by the same tractor, Corporal Hicks watching their rear as Corporal Dietrich scanned left and Shepard scanned right. Vasquez kept her eyes on the higher levels of the colony building, in case something was on the roof or in one of the many windows, her Marshal sweeping where she looked. "Second squad is on line!"

"_Got the bypass. Damn four-button mini-games…_" Hudson lamented.

"_Drake, you set?_" The reply must have been silent, because Shepard could hear the large metal door sliding open, Drake bounding inside with his Marshal at the ready. The rest of the first squad followed suit, disappearing into the entrance of the complex. "_We got a… partially opened door that leads into the heart of the complex._" Apone informed her over the radio. "_Got a set of stairs that lead up to the second level._"

"That's our cue." Shepard told her squad. "Second team, defensive positions by the entrance, go!" The four Marines bullrushed towards the recently-opened door, both herself and Vasquez taking the right side as Hicks and Dietrich took the left.

"_We're going to go ahead an open this door, work our way inside._" Apone called out over the radio.

"We'll sweep the second level." Shepard advised, looking to Hicks, who nodded. "Soon as you get in and set, have your people start sweeping with eyeballs and trackers."

"_That's an affirmative_." The Gunny replied, as Shepard pointed at Hicks, and then thumbed the interior of the complex. Hicks nodded as he went inside, Shepard right behind him with Vasquez following, and Dietrich at the rear. Shepard quickly got in step with the Corporal as he took up a flight of stairs, taking his time to check the stairwell, covering the corners as Shepard aimed her Lancer higher, in case someone decided to look down at them.

"Stairway's clear. Moving up." Hicks spoke softly, moving up the flight of stairs, his Lancer out as Shepard followed right behind him. They found themselves deposited in a long hallway with a good many doors on either side, most of them closed. _Shit, we're going to have to clear all that…_

"Apone, on second level." Shepard called out on her throat-mike. "Looks pretty damaged and deserted. You getting the same thing?"

"_We're getting hits from lots of small arms fire on the walls and floors._" The Gunny answered, sounding like the same thing Shepard was seeing. "_We've also got some evidence of seismic survey charges. Keep it tight, people._"

"_Pequeña diabla_? You're up." Shepard told Vasquez, the Mexican woman smiling viciously as she took point in the hallway, her Marshal sweeping as she moved deliberately down the hallway, slow and steady. Hicks was right by her side, keying up his Omnitool and turning on the tracker program. A small haptic monitor appeared over his left arm, showing a simple radar configuration as a rhythmic '_thumping_' noise began to emanate from his Omnitool as it tested the ionizing fields of the air in front of it, the first thing disturbed with movement. The thump was like a heart beat as Hicks looked at it, holding his arm out in front of him as he put his M7 Lancer's buttstock on his hip.

"No movement. Not a Goddamn thing." Hicks whispered, his tone surprised. For a complex with anywhere from 800 to 1,000 people, they should see someone… Shepard leaned over to look at the tracker herself. It had a range of at least thirty meters, and could get a signal as far as fifty if it were large enough. There were practically standing in the colony's living quarters, facing the heart of it, with a tracker that would recognize someone if they moved their arm. Hicks looked to her and shook his head, conveying his thoughts; not a good sign.

"Start searching the rooms. Maybe someone's asleep, or we can find some clue as to what happened." Shepard ordered, getting Hicks and Vasquez nodding, the Gunner still pointing her Marshal down the corridor. "Vasquez, point. Hicks, tracking. Me and Dietrich will sweep and clear the rooms as we encounter them." Together, the four of them began walking down the corridor slow and deliberate, the sound of the tracker's rhythmic thumping adding to the sound of rain pouring from holes in the complex's structure, probably from explosives. Shepard looked at one wall, seeing some round impacts. "Looks like… Mattock fire? That what these colonists had for defensive measures?"

"_Ah… yes._" The reply came from Burke a moment later. "_There was a small shipment of Lancers and Avengers, but no more than a dozen. About three dozen Mattocks for the security team, plus whatever the colonists decided to bring that was approved by the Corporation._"

"We'll check the armory when we get the chance." Shepard promised, wondering if there would be any weapons or explosives left over. "Perhaps the colony's defensive mechs might still be of use. Or at least give us an idea what happened."

"This much damage? I think the colonists gave everything they got and lost." Hicks added, his tone dour. "Got some doors."

"Let's check them out." Shepard pointed to the door on the right to Dietrich, the Navy Corpsman nodding as she put her Lancer on her back and pulled out her M3 Predator for any possible short-range engagement. Shepard stowed her Lancer and pulled out her Officer-issued M9 Tempest for the same reason as she went to the door on the left, manually pulling the door open and darting inside, sweeping the room from corner-to-corner with her sub-machine gun. She found herself in a sort of one-room apartment similar to Ripley's back on Arcturus. The check was short, sweet, and depressingly void of any clues. Shepard closed the door as she left the room, turning on her Omnitool and flipping to the 'tag' program. She them put a small red 'x' on the door, indicated that it had been searched. Dietrich did the same after she stepped out of the room, shaking her head. Nothing. They worked systematically together, moving forward slowly while the Lieutenant and the Corpsman searched the rooms they walked by.

Nobody was home.

As she searched one room, she heard over her earpiece the '_ping_' of a contact on a tracker, pulsing with each sweep of the tracker. The tone was just high-pitched enough to indicate that it was a small, distant contact; small in size, or small in numbers. Shepard sucked in a breath, waiting a moment to listen to anything coming over the radio beside the contact signal. _Friendly… or enemy_?

"Hicks, that you?" Shepard asked quietly over her throat-mike.

"_Negative_." The Corporal replied. "_Still clear. Must be Hudson's._" Shepard remained quiet as she finished clearing the room, closing the door behind her and marking it as she moved over to Hicks and Vasquez, trying not to seem impatient and worried. Could they have found a survivor? Could they have found the enemy? The thoughts were spinning in her head as Hicks and Vasquez moved forward, still conducting their sweep. Shepard berated herself, remembering that she still had a job to do. Gunny Apone was with them; if there was anything worth mentioning, he would mention it. And then the radio crackled to life.

"_Uh…_" Hudson's voice sounded tinny over the radio.

"_Good one, Hudson._" Drake's voice came next, his tone disgusted as he snorted.

"_Sir, that's a negative contact._" Hudson stammered slightly. That didn't tell her anything.

"Negative as in dead, or negative as in a false positive?" Shepard asked. Hicks looked over to her and nodded slightly, letting her know she was doing the right thing.

"_We found a gerbil_." Hudson breathed out, making Vasquez snort, shaking her head. "_We're moving on, sir._"

"Hudson, wait." Shepard thought of something. "Is that gerbil alive? As in… despite everyone else is gone, someone's been feeding it?"

"_Uh… shit! Didn't think of that!_" The PFC admitted over the radio. "_Yeah, its got some food and water. Half-eaten, so… someone put food there at most two days ago?_"

"Signal came out nine days ago." Shepard smiled, speaking both to Hicks and to the radio. "Someone's been feeding a pet. Someone's still here, alive and breathing, hopefully. Apone, sweep fast to Operations. Colony has cameras and computers. We can conduct a better search there and use it to coordinate our patrols."

"_Roger. Operations is just a little ways from us._" The Gunny replied, his tone approving. "_Keep searching, people. El-Tee's right; somebody's here._"

"Good call. Wouldn't thought of that." Hicks admitted with a shrug, holding out his tracker. "Few more rooms to check, and we should…"

"_Hicks?_" Ripley's voice came over the radio. "_I saw something on your camera. On the floor, to your right._" Shepard, Hicks, and Vasquez all aimed their respective guns to the floor, searching quickly for what Ripley had seen, finding it with the beams of light attached to their guns.

A melted piece of floor.

"Son of a bitch." Hicks breathed out as they approached the hole, each of them looking at the hole as Shepard took a knee beside it, looking at it. It was more than large enough for someone to drop into, and the metal had been melted and fused as an outer ring, eating completely through it. "Looks melted. Somebody must have bagged one of Ripley's bad guys."

"Acid for blood." Shepard breathed out, seeing spatters of burn holes on other parts of the floor, and on the wall, too. "Seeing this alright, Ripley? It's a hell of a splatter effect. We need to keep that in mind if we see one of them."

"_Madre de Dios._" Vasquez breathed out, shaking her head, looking at the floor. "_Chupacabra._"

"_If you like that, you're gonna love this…_" Hudson's voice came up, and Shepard realized that she could hear his voice without the need of her radio. She peered through the hole, and found that she was looking down at him and Drake, and that a hole was melted through their floor as well, going downward. Hudson emphasized it by hocking up a loogie and spitting down the hole. Drake nudged the PFC towards the hole, startling the Marine. "_Quit fucking around, man!_"

"A little bit harder next time, Drake." Shepard said over the radio, making the Scandinavian man look up at her and give her a wink and a smile. Shepard stood up, seeing Vasquez shaking her head. "What?"

"Aren't you suppose to be in the APC, watching monitors and leading from the rear?" Vasquez asked, her tone a little mistrustful, her dark eyes boring up at Shepard.

"Aren't you suppose to be in the kitchen, barefoot and pregnant, raising five kids?" Shepard quipped in return, getting the satisfaction of watching Vasquez's mouth drop open, her jaw hanging low.

"_Oh shit! El-Tee just one-up'ed Vasquez!_" Hudson hotted on the radio, making Shepard remember that their conversations weren't private. "_Quick, Hicks! Take a picture! It'll last longer!_"

"_Vete a la mierda, pendejo!_" Vasquez said over her radio, directing it at Hudson, her eyes aimed at the hole in the floor. Then her dark eyes returned to Shepard, and a smile came to her sultry lips. "Not bad, El-Tee. Not bad at all. I think I just might like you." Shepard had to fight the growing blush threatening to stain her cheeks red. Hicks gave her a wink and a smile, and she mouthed the words 'thank you' to him. He simply nodded his head, and returned to the mission on hand.

"_Second squad, what's your status?_" Apone asked.

"We've checked about three-quarters of the upper level of the complex." Shepard replied over the radio. "Nobody's home."

"_Roger, El-Tee, this place is dead save for Hudson's gerbil._" Apone acknowledged. "_Whatever happened here, we missed it._"

"Let's head to operations, see what their computer logs can tell us." Shepard replied. "Hudson? Get to the mainframe and get it on-line. We can split the tear to finish the rest of the sweep and finish securing this sight. With the exception of the gerbil, we haven't seen any other signs that someone might be alive right now. We can have a team do a more thorough search, but I have a feeling we're not going to find answers here. Have your team go ahead and move to operations, and we'll meet you there."

"_Roger that._" Apone replied.

"Wierzbowski? Meet us at the south lock. Have Burke and Ripley come in." Shepard told the Private. "We'll escort them in."

* * *

2nd Lieutenant Jane Shepard walked through a hole in a hastily-erected barricade, made of pipes, plate steel, outer door panels, machinery, and welds. Acid holes had littered the hallway before it, burning through walls and flooring in several places. The metal has been warped and melting in many places, several places completely burned through. The part of the barricade she had walked through had been ripped asunder by hands stronger than humans, peeled back like a can of soup. Hicks, Burke, Ripley, Vasquez, and Dietrich followed suit, ducking through the hole, Vasquez having to feed her M56 Marshal Light Machine Gun through the hole first to Corporal Hicks before going through herself, the gun too large to fit through along with a person.

"Sir?"

Shepard looked up to see Private First Class Mark Drake approaching her, walking from further in the corridor, his Marshal slung in a carrying configuration reserved when the Marines weren't expecting a hostile, but close enough to hand to be ready to rock at a moment's notice instead of taking everything off and putting it back on.

"Report."

"They sealed off this wing with both ends." The Squad Automatic Gunner replied. "Welded the doors closed, blocked off the stairs with heavy equipment."

"Last stand. Didn't hold." Shepard noted, looking back to the breach she and her squad had just ducked through. "Any bodies?"

"None, sir." Drake replied, the situation obviously confusing him. If it had been a slaver attack, they would have shoved the bodies onto spikes to send a message. If it had been Turians, they would have left the dead of their enemy where they were. Even Krogan didn't mess with the dead.

"Not even enemy dead?"

"None." Drake shook his head, mystified. He didn't get it. Shepard did, though. Psychological warfare, remove the dead to make oneself seem undefeatable, plus they would get an accurate number of how many were left over.

"Apone through here?" Drake nodded, jerking his head in the direction the Gunnery Sergeant was in. "Roger. Lead Ripley and Burke to Operations. Hicks? Find the rest and continue sweeping this area thoroughly. I want every nook and cranny looked at and swept, every hiding spot cleared. Everything." The Corporal nodded, jerking his head towards Vasquez and Dietrich, indicating for them to follow him, while Drake had Ripley and Burke in tow, leading them to Operations. "Hudson?" Shepard called out on the radio. "You got the colony's network up?"

"_Roger. We just need Burke to access everything._" The squad's technician replied. _"I've already got access to the basics; cameras, security footage, most of the data logs. We need him for the stuff that's been marked classified._"

"Good. You see what you can do to locate the colonists, and Burke'll review the monitors and logs for an idea of what happened here." Shepard began walking down the corridor, taking a left to see Gunny Apone. The Gunnery Sergeant was finishing up the last of the sweep in that section of the complex, coming back to meet her. Shepard pulled the throat-mike from where it was strapped to her neck, keeping the receiver away so that it wouldn't pick up on her words, Apone doing the same thing. What she was about to talk about, she didn't want the others to hear. "You thinking the same thing I'm thinking, Gunny? Ripley's creature?"

"Seems like it." Apone grumbled, his eyes looking at a spot where some weapons fired had put holes into the metal wall. "This is a colony of what? 700? 800? How many of them were there to nab every single one of them?"

"Shit, Gunny. A few here, a few there, night time strike, an ambush…" Shepard thought it out, how she'd do it. "You could depopulate a colony with a couple dozen in the right conditions. We think of it in human terms. One thing I noticed about this organism in Ripley's report is that it's a silent striker; waits in the shadows, and catches you unawares. Poor bastards that did all this fortification were probably the last set of them, when they couldn't deny something was wrong." She shook her head, pulling out her pack of clove cigarettes from a pocket, stuck the tube in her mouth, and used her Omnitool to light the end of it, politely ignoring the Gunny's raised eyebrow. Shepard took in a hit of the cigarette, thinking it over. "Signal came in nine days ago, but this probably started two weeks ago, a couple of disappearances that went under the radar. Whoever built the barricades sent the signal. But by the time they hit the panic button…"

"It was already too late." Apone finished, drumming her point with his finger. "You're doing good, El-Tee; making good calls, leading your squad right. The thing with the gerbil? That's what Officers do; use their brains, think up of shit we grunts don't." Shepard nodded, taking another hit of her cigarette. "And I got to admit, I damn near swallowed my tongue with that shit you pulled on Vasquez. I don't think anyone's got the _cajones_ to talk shit to that woman."

"Yeah, well…" Shepard took another puff, thinking things over. "Let's get to Ops, pull up the security monitors, and start coordinating sweeps and patrols. I'll get Hudson to pull up a map, see where the hell a thousand people disappear to. Someone's got to have left a sign; we just need to find it."

"Roger that, El-Tee. Roger that."

* * *

2nd Lieutenant Jane Shepard wondered whose bright idea it was to put a Medical Laboratory before entering the Central Command Center.  
The Med Lab was a fairly standard affair; well-lit room with plenty of square footage crammed with as much equipment as possible. Tables, cabinets, gurneys, trays, crash carts, Medigel dispensaries, monitors and analyzers were stuffed into the Lab, making it almost something akin to a mad scientists' lab. Shepard had to walk around an IV tree and a medical rolling cart filled with surgical apparatus just to get to the main walkway that would lead to the Ops room, wondering who had designed the configuration. If personnel had to be deconn'ed before entering and leaving the Med Lab, why was Operations right next to it? There was clearly another way into the Central Command Center of Hadley's Hope, but Shepard hadn't wanted to walk completely around the complex just to reach it. It seemed a poor design flaw.

Yet humans weren't the only creatures in the room.

Carter Burke and Ellen Ripley were in the Med Lab, along with Bishop and Hicks, staring at something. Shepard moved through the Med Lab to see what it was that held their attention, and found that they were looking at a series of biological containment canisters, filled with a clear emulsion fluid. There were easily three dozen of them, all of them filled with a specimen; correction, they all held the same kind of specimen. Shepard felt herself swallowing the first question she was about to ask; she didn't need it any more. She knew what she was looking at.

What was inside of them was horrifying.

"Are those…?" Shepard turned to Ripley, the woman pale as she nodded in a jerking fashion, obviously having recognized the species. The creatures looked to be like a pair of hands splayed out, the fingers like wings, or perhaps some sort of bizarre spider-like creature. Each had eight segmented legs, four to each side, with fleshy sacs coming out from behind the legs, almost like pouches. A prehensile tail came from the back, at least three times the length of the creature itself, its bony appearance giving the tail a spine-like appearance. No eyes could be seen, and it was hard to tell where the brain might have been on it. The body itself wasn't very large, more like a thorax on an ant, a small connection point perhaps the size of a small plate where the fingers, sacs, and tail connected. They were hideous, revolting things, the subject of Ripley's nightmares, no doubt. Shepard remembered Ripley's words back on the _Sulaco_…

_…something attached to his face...some kind of parasite…_

The thought had Shepard shudder despite her best effort.

Burke leaned closer to one of the biological containment canisters, peering at the strange alien creature, utterly fascinated by what he was seeing. Ripley warned him to back away, but before he could do so, the creature inside somehow sensed him, and lunged at the bureaucrat, it's finger-like legs clutching at the clear wall while Burke jumped back, startled. The creature's 'palm' was pressed against the glass, and a worm-like tubule had come out of its mouth-like orifice, slithering tongue-like over the glass.

"Looks like love at first sight, to me." Hicks called out, putting a little country twang into his voice, the mid-level executive scowling at the Marine. "Oh, he likes you, Burke."

"Just don't go giving that thing oral; that's a one-night stand you probably don't want to be waking up from." Shepard added, her tone serious, even if her words weren't. All she could think about was a crew member named Kane, convulsing on the dinner table as the rest of the crew watched in horror as something burst from his chest…

"Ten are alive, the rest are dead." Science Officer Lance Bishop called out, having picked up a nearby medical datapad. He flipped through the screens quickly, reading through the notes. "Surgically removed before embryo implantation." Bishop read out loud, his lack of inflection in his voice making it sound clinical, less horrifying. "_Subject: Marachuk, John J. died during the procedure._" The Science Officer looked up from the datapad, his face crestfallen. "They killed him taking it off."

"The thing…" Ripley spoke up, her voice wavering, her eyes never leaving the creature. "The facehugger… when we tried to pull it off of Kane's face, the legs would squeeze for a better grip, and the tail would constrict tighter around his throat. Only when we left it alone would it allow him to breath. I think… it did his breathing for him."

"Air sacs." Shepard looked at the pouches to either side of the spine-like tail. "And that thing went right through Kane's helmet?"

"Yes." The woman answered, shivering slightly. "I wish we had put a bullet into his head. I told Dallas I wasn't going to let them in…" Ripley was lost in thought, obviously remembering the _Nostromo_. Shepard had nothing; not a word she could say to make it better. There were thirty-six examples of why things weren't going to be better.

And in their reverie, a pinging noise came from Hick's Omnitool Tracker.

A/N: I make mention of the GRZLY, which is in reference to _Mass Effect's_ M29 Grizzly. A few examples can be seen in Mass Effect 1; in Port Harshan, Noveria, in the garage you need a pass for, and under Zhu's Hope, Feros, where you pull the power supply from after hunting the Alpha Varren. The M577 is the designation of the APC in Aliens, but it doesn't have a moniker, so I use the 'GRZLY' from Mass Effect, as it was loosely based off the Aliens' M577.

While Shepard replaces Lt. Gorman, she isn't Lt. Gorman. She isn't quite the Shepard we know, but she's learning.

"_Goddamn four-button minigames…_" Hudson's ribbing of ME1's hacking skills. Simpering biotic cry baby no longer required.

And in the original _Alien_, Ripley did indeed refuse admittance for Dallas, Lambert, and Kane, citing the obvious biological contamination that the parasite represented. It was the android Ash that let them in.


	6. Chapter 6: Hadley's Last Hope

Disclaimer: BioWare owns Mass Effect. 20th Century Fox owns the _Alien_ franchise.

**LV-426, November 16, 2176**

The sound of pinging from the Omnitool tracker broke the silence of the Med Lab had five people looking at one another before Corporal Hicks looked to his tracker, reading the haptic display containing the trackers' visual reference tool in the form of a radar. The tracker continued to ping in a regular rhythmic interval, '_ping_', '_ping_', '_ping_', as Hicks looked at the display, and then to 2nd Lieutenant Jane Shepard, his face grim.

"Uh, El-Tee? We've got something here." The Corporal said, hoisting his M7 Lancer Assault Rifle, his stance telling her everything she needed to know. "Behind us."

"One of ours?" Ripley asked, gripping one of the medical crash carts, her knuckles white. The Lieutenant nodded, seeing the importance of the question immediately. _Friendly… or enemy?_ That rang through her head, and she fought off the nervousness she felt.

"Apone? Where are your people? Anyone in D-Block?" Shepard asked over the radio.

"_Uh, that's a negative._" Gunnery Sergeant Al Apone's voice come through her earpiece. "_We're all in Operations._"

"We got us a tracker contact. Me and Hicks will investigate, send Vasquez for support." Shepard relayed, looking over to the Corporal, who was pointing his Omnitool at the door, his eyes on the screen, his Omnitool still emitting the '_ping_', '_ping_', '_ping_' that quickly got on Shepard's nerves as she stood by him, pulling out her M7 Lancer from off her back, extending it into combat mode. PFC Vasquez showed up a few seconds later, pulling her M56 Marshal Light Machine Gun from its carrying configuration, pivoting it across her body, and then slamming it horizontal to where its barrel was facing the doorway that was in the direction of the contact, the Gunner's toned arms tight on the handles of her 'Smart Tracking' Machine Gun.

"Good to go." Vasquez called out softly, her eyes darting to the tracker for a second, and then to the door. She walks forward, slowly and deliberately, Hick to one side of her as Shepard took the other, her Lancer pointing at the door as well. They approached the door, and the Gunner took the lead, bounding through it first and facing to the right, the lights of her gun and mounted to her shoulder illuminating the corridor as Hicks and Shepard followed, getting back into their formation. "Just keep talking to me, Dwayne."

"Keep moving forward. Twenty-two meters, to the left." Hicks called out, reading the display. The '_pings_' slowly grew higher in pitch, indicating that the contact was moving closer. "Twenty meters and closing. Moving straight for us." The '_pings_' continued to steadily grow higher in tone. "Ten meters. Seven. Five."

Something darted across the corridor laterally.

Vasquez, pumped up and itching for action, squeezed the trigger of her M56 Marshal Light Machine Gun, the Smart Tracking System having already locked onto the moving target. The Light Machine Gun spat out grains of metal shaved from the weapons' ammo block, sending them down the mass-accelerating barrel by the means of Element Zero conducted through the weapons' minuscule core, increasing the metal's velocity to a single percentage of the speed of light. Just a one-second burst from the M56 could send a dozen such fragments into a target, ripping anything into shreds in a very short amount of time; barriers, armor, and flesh. Coupled with the VI-driven Smart Tracking System created by Hadne-Keder, the Marshal could be kept upon a moving target with 99% accuracy will little effort on the gunner's part, ensuring maximum damage upon an enemy while reducing collateral damage and possible fratricide. So when Vasquez pulled the trigger, a salvo of hyper-accelerated metal fragments spat forth into the corridor, the gun immediately tracking the object.

Unfortunately, the gun had fired into the ceiling, spitting death into an air duct, Shepard having jerked the gun upward at the last possible moment with her uplifted arm.

"Fuck, man!" Vasquez spat out, looking at her with anger and confusion.

"PID, Marine." Shepard replied, staring down at the Squad Automatic Gunner, taking Vasquez slightly aback. "We don't shoot first without confirmation." The shorter woman huffed, but Shepard knew what she had seen. "Ripley?" The woman had followed them, still tense, but had come none-the-less; she didn't lack courage, Shepard noted. The Lieutenant motioned to where the shape had darted to, and gave the woman a reassuring smile and a nod, letting her know that it was safe. Shepard, Ripley, and Hicks all moved forward to the spot, some steel cabinets covering the spot slightly as Shepard bent down and shined her Lancer's light into the recess of the wall, all of them crouching for a better look.

A pair of terrified eyes stared back at them.

"Oh my God, it's a little girl!" Ripley exclaimed, the tension and fear immediately leaving her as she looked to Shepard with wide eyes for a brief moment before returning to the girl crouched in the recess of the wall. "Hey, sweetie." The woman cooed, letting her voice become friendly, motherly even. "Shhh. It's okay, you don't have to be afraid! Please, can you come out to us?" Shepard looked at the little girl's eyes, as wide as saucers, the only thing about her that wasn't covered in what appeared to be grime and soot. "We're here to help, honey. My name is Ellen." Shepard noticed that the little girl had something in her hand; the head of a plastic doll, clutched to her bosom. She couldn't help but think of the girl as a cornered rat.

"Hicks? Let's back up, let Ripley do her thing." Shepard whispered, the Corporal nodding as they slid away a few feet, standing up as Ripley went closer to the recess, holding out a tentative hand.

And sure enough, a moment later, a tiny hand came out.

Shepard stood back and watched the scene unfold in front of her, seeing a dirty hand taking Ripley's, the rest of the girl slowly emerging from the recess, her eyes darting around the corridor, expecting an attack. As soon as she was fully exposed, the girl buried herself into Ripley's chest, whimpering slightly.

"Shhh, shhh, shhh." Ripley cooed, stroking the young girl's filthy, matted hair in a motherly fashion, rocking the girl slightly as she held her dearly. "It's okay, sweetie. Everything is going to be alright. I won't let anything happen to you, dear." The little girl just clutched the woman tighter, sobbing into Ripley's bosom, her small frame quaking as she cried. Ripley spared a glance at Shepard, and the woman's face was one of alarm and concern. _How long had that girl been alone?_

"Ripley? Go ahead and take her to Operations." Shepard said quietly, not wanting to alarm or frighten the girl. "We'll have Corpsman Dietrich check her out. I want you to look out after her, see if you can talk to her. If she says anything, let me know. If not, just… see to her needs." Ripley nodded, determination set in her eyes as she held the girl closely. Shepard was glad that she had brought Ripley now; she was the perfect person for the job.

"Apone?" Shepard called out on her radio quietly. "We found a survivor."

* * *

The Command Control Center, in 2nd Lieutenant Jane Shepard's opinion, was a clusterfuck job done by a Corporation that did its best to skimp at every possible opportunity. The Ops Center ended up being a parapit of some kind, with a small bank of work stations set on a long, concave table facing a large monitor that would display whatever readouts or work being done. The colony's network was several VI computers running in a series near the back of the room, commanded all by a raised desk obviously for the colony director. It looked almost military, not too different from the bridge of a Navy vessel; a Captain looking upon his subordinates. Shepard was currently sitting at the director's chair with a cup of coffee in hand, some thoughtful Marine having brewed some as soon as they entered. Shepard was surprised to find the coffee of good quality; certainly better than the swill Ripley had back on her Arcturus apartment. Hicks was moving around the Ops Center, opening up the storm shutters on the windows, giving a view of LV 426 beyond, the broiling storm clouds that turned the moon a permanent overcast currently raining down from the heavens, the low moan of wind buffeting the colony building. The view was sadly depressing, and Shepard turned from it, looking to Hudson and Burke, both working on separate work stations, accessing the colony's mainframe. Hopefully, they would get access soon. The Lieutenant rose from the director's chair, moving over to a small room beside the Ops Center, where Corporal Dietrich was examining the little girl, Ripley watching on, comforting the girl with her presence. Shepard opted to watch from the door frame, leaning against it as she took a small sip of the coffee, flavored with powdered creamer and synth-sugar.

The girl hadn't said a word yet.

"Okay, honey. We're all done here." Corporal Cynthia Dietrich said cheerfully, the bedside manner of the Navy Corpsman obviously intent to move the girl into a positive direction. "You know, I think I've got just what the Doctor ordered here in my pack…" The Corpsman went into her medical bag, opening up one of the pouches and pulled out, of all things, a lollipop. "Don't let the guys know, sweetheart." Dietrich gave the girl a friendly, conspiratorial wink, zipping up her back and shouldering it, moving away from her patient as Ripley took over being a mother hen. Shepard stepped aside for the Corpsman, pulling her aside so they could talk without the girl overhearing them.

"How is she?" Shepard asked.

"Physically? She's okay." Dietrich sighed, looking back towards the room. "Borderline malnutrition, so I gave her a vitabar and an energy bar, should fix the problem quick. No permanent damage… but she wolfed them down like a Death Row inmate with his last meal." Shepard grimaced with that, understanding what Dietrich was alluding to; when was the last time the girl ate? "Mentally? She's traumatized, badly. Whatever happened here, she was a full-time, front-row seat witness to it. Put that on an eight year old girl, and I'm just happy she isn't crying and screaming all the time."

"She's eight?" Shepard asked, curious. Sounded about right, but that was an exact age, not a guess.

"She's got a Colonial Data Transmitter. Something these Corporations shunt on their menial workers." The Corpsman shrugged her shoulders. "It's a small implant so they can locate someone in case they go missing."

"Burke mentioned something like that." Shepard nodded. "That once the computers got fully operational, they would be able to locate the rest of the colonists. Anything we can do for the girl?"

"Time, and get her the hell off this rock." Dietrich replied, sighing. "She'll probably have decades of therapy to go through. But right now? Her best medicine is Ripley. You can tell the girl's latched onto her, maternal figure and all. Don't see Rebecca getting cuddly with us in our Onyx Armor, do you?"

"No." Shepard took another sip of her coffee, rather glad she didn't have the job herself. Introspectively, she thought she'd make a pretty decent mother, but a twenty-two year old Lieutenant taking care of a traumatized eight year old was a bad recipe. Ripley was much better suited, and the woman looked like she needed the support just as much as she could give it, birds of a feather and all. If Shepard was right, then… Rebecca… probably went through the same ordeal that Ripley did. The adult woman was still dealing with her past; how well would a child deal with it? Perhaps the two of them together could help each other out; a woman looking for a purpose to move forward, and a child looking for someone to care for her during a rough patch. They were the perfect pair, in a fucked-up fashion. "Thanks for the check-up, Dietrich. I think Bishop's working in the Lab, staring into one of those creepy facehugger things. He could probably use an extra pair of hands." The Navy Medic nodded, making a disgusted face at the sound of 'facehugger'. Those things seriously creeped everyone out, especially the living ones. Bishop, the near-genius that he was, was happily dissecting one of the dead ones, annotating notes and making observations.

Weirdo.

Shepard moved over to where Hudson and Burke were working, and was pleasantly surprised when the main monitor came to life, the haptic display showing the familiar blueprint of Hadley's Hope, though it looked like an architectural schematic instead of outlines. It showed the main colony complex, a series of lines that made squares for rooms, parallels for hallways, junctions, tributary corridors, three levels overlapping one another. At first glance, it was a jumbled mess.

"Smoking or non-smoking?" Hudson joked quietly, his tone not into it as Shepard scoffed, pulling out her pack of clove cigarettes and putting the black tube in her mouth, lighting it._ Answered that question_, Shepard thought to herself. Hudson looked at her as if she had lost her mind, and then smiled.

"So what are we going to look for? These CDT's?" Shepard asked, looking at the haptic monitor, the mess of architecture enough to induce a headache as she inhaled the cigarette, blowing out the smoke before taking a sip of her coffee.

"The Colonial Data Transmitters, yeah." The squad's technician answered, nodding his head. "Everyone's suppose to have one. If they're within twenty klicks, the network should pick them up and display them here. But so far… zippo."

"Network failure? Interference?" Shepard asked, looking at the complex blueprint. So far, only one had appeared, tagged 'Jorden, R.', located right in the heart of the Ops Center where they stood. Rebecca Jorden, that was the girl. There wasn't any problem locating her, at least. She appeared as a small white blip that pulsed in and out like a heart beat, the computer highlighting it amidst the mass of blueprint lines, making it easier to identify.

"Not sure, El-Tee." Hudson shook his head, frowning at the screen. "We see the little girl's just fine, so there's nothing wrong with the receiver. It's just that…"

"They're not in the building." Shepard finished, saying what Hudson was thinking. "What's that?" She pointed to what looked to be a hallway or tunnel that veered away from the colony complex, going off the map, terminating it before they could see where it went.

"Maintenance access of some sort… escape route?" The PFC guessed. "Let me follow it, see where it leads to."

"Shepard, you got a second?" Carter Burke, working at another station, was going through the colony feeds, looking at footage over the past several weeks. Shepard moved over to where Burke was working, putting her cigarette in her mouth and putting her hand on his shoulder and leaning on him to get a better view of what he was looking at. Burke noticed the hand, but said nothing. "This was the Ops Center two weeks ago." A still frame of Colonial Administration of Hadley's Hope, several humans working at stations, and a man in the director's chair; business as usual. "Now, each frame is a 24-hour period, which is only half a day here, but because of the weather, the colonists could keep it Earth-norm without any issues." Shepard grunted at that as Burke clicked forward, showing her another picture; more business as usual. So were the next three.

The fourth looked as if half the staff went missing.

"What the hell?" Hicks asked, having come up behind Burke as well, smoking a real cigarette. Shepard looked at the date; November 5th, 2176. A full twenty-four hours before Shepard had received the mission from Director Harper. Yet… hadn't he said that Weyland-Yutani received the beacon three days before the meeting, November 3rd? Why didn't the picture frame seem gutted on that day? Or the day after? Why the 5th? What happened then?

"Is there actual vid capture, or is this all we got?" Shepard asked the bureaucrat.

"Sorry, it's pic-stills taken once an hour, every hour, to save on digital storage space." Burke apologized. "I tried accessing the Colony Cloud, but they didn't have one. It seems like once a month, they transmit all the data stores to Corporate, and flush the prior data. We're lucky we got this; they do it on the first of every month. That first image was from the First of November, and there's nothing to grab from October 31st unless someone kept it personally on their work station, on a separate data storage, on an OCD, or even on a personal Cloud. I'm going to write a program for the VI to gather all the images and make a home movie, more-or-less. Perhaps we can get a sense of when it started, where it started, or see who went where. Give me a few minutes, and I can have it to where every camera in the complex was shooting a movie for us."

"Good work, Burke. Please do that." Shepard replied, approval easily coming to her tone. Even a twenty-four snapshot movie might give them an idea what happened, or how the colonists fought back. She knew that Ripley's creatures had gotten in; the acid on the floors, the barricades, the weapons fires and seismic charges, they all pointed to just that. This hadn't been done by Batarians or Krogan or Terminus mercenaries. There just weren't any of their signs left of a visit, and none of them were picky about cleaning up afterwards. But a xenomorph? A silent stalker, hunting its prey in the shadows, picking off colonists one-by-one? That fit in the puzzle all too well in Shepard's mind.

"Got it." Burke announced a few minutes later, clicking on a few more keys on the haptic keyboard. "How do you want it?"

"Put it on screen." Shepard replied, the architectural blueprint going away, forcing Hudson to use his work station. "Give me a 9-grid display, Burke. Ops, Med Lab, and Garage on top, North Gate, South Gate, and West Gate in the middle, and the three major throughways on the bottom. Those will be the high-traffic areas. Start with the earliest on November 1st, and flip to the next hour every three seconds. I'll take the top. Hicks? Middle. Burke? Bottom. Call out when something catches your attention." Burke typed on the haptic keyboard furiously, pushing some 100 words-per-minute for about two minutes before the main monitor displayed Shepard's specifications. "Let's get it started."  
It was as Burke described; watching a home movie. Each frame was a snapshot of the life of the colony, starting at midnight on the First of November, slowly passing the time away every three seconds. Almost a minute passed before Shepard saw something on one of her screens that made her call out a stop. She looked at the top-middle screen showing the Med Lab, which also seemed to function as the colony's Aid station as well, it seemed. There, on screen, was a man on a gurney, surrounded by his family.

On his face was one of the creatures from the Med Lab.

"Son of a bitch." Hicks breathed out, taking another drag of his cigarette. "Poor bastard got face-fucked, alright."

"Victim number one." Shepard replied, making the Corporal grunt. She studied the picture for several seconds, seeing something in it that nagged at her thoughts, though she couldn't put her finger on it. "Burke, can we zoom in on the family? And clear up any degradation?" The mid-level executive did as he was asked, and the picture zoomed in on the people around the man; a woman with two kids, a boy and a girl. Shepard found herself studying the family, and it finally dawned on her what her eyes saw but her brain wasn't picking up on. "Shit! That's the girl! Right there!"

"Damn, hard to tell…" Hicks squinted, craning his neck forward. "I mean, right age and body shape, but she's so filthy now… but yeah, I think I see it. Her father got knocked-up." Shepard breathed out a slow curse; no wonder the girl was traumatized. "Wonder what the next few show?" Burke was interested as well as the picture turned to the next hour, showing the man still lying on the gurney, creature no longer on face, with the mother and kids still there.

The next picture was one straight out of a horror movie.

The timing was perfect; a few minutes either way and they would have never known. Rebecca's father was still on the gurney, but no longer was he laying down, apparently asleep. His body was arched upward in an almost back-breaking position, his face contorted in a silent scream of agony. His hands were grasping at his chest, as if he were suffering a heart attack. Yet the medical gown he was wearing was stained with blood, a large stain that seemed to come from a cut underneath. What had Shepard's attention was the fact that the stain was bulging upward, even further than the man's chest.

Next to the man was the form of an eight year old girl.

"Holy fuck." Hicks breathed out, the image capturing all of their attentions, taking away their breaths. "She was _right there_ when it happened. She watched her father die while that thing burst right out of his chest." The Corporal took a quick emergency drag of his cigarette. "I've seen some pretty sick shit in my time, but this takes the cake. And she was right _there_…"

"Burke, show me Ops, next hour… 1800." Shepard told the executive. He complied, and the image switched to the Ops center, where they could see the same woman and kids, sitting in chairs, someone from the staff standing in a way that suggested that he was talking to them. The woman looked like she was grieving, and the boy was obviously crying, but the girl…

…Brain-lock. It was like someone shut the switch off on her.

"Damn." Burke muttered, shaking his head sadly. "How do you expect a kid to recover from that? Watching their parent die in front of them like that? Especially that gruesomely."

"It takes time and patience." Shepard replied softly, looking at nothing in particular. "Lots of both." Burke looked like her was about to say something, but thought better of it. Hicks remained quiet, but nodded to himself. Perhaps he knew.

"Yo!" Hudson called out triumphantly. "Stop your grinnin' and drop your linen! Found them!" Shepard had Burke wave off the colonial home movie off the monitor, letting the squad's technician putting his find up on the big screen. The architectural blueprint came up, but Shepard could instantly tell that it wasn't the colony complex they were looking at; too regular, and there were obvious holes for something that would run vertically through the structure.

"That's the processing plant." Burke noted, his tone slightly curious. "Why would they be in the terraforming complex?"

"Hudson, are they even alive?" Shepard asked, looking at the processing plant. From what little she knew of it, it was a Yarik matter/anti-matter fusion reaction core, capable of creating an incredible amount of energy. Why would someone hide there? Was it safer? More defensible?

"Unknown." Hudson clicked his tongue off of the roof of his mouth, working through the haptic keyboard to get more information. "But I'm reading… seven hundred and forty-three signals, El-Tee. That's over 90% of the colony population. Looks like…" The blueprint shifted from a topographical view to that of a front view, and Shepard could see that the signals were actually coming from under the surface. "Looks like they're all in Sub-Level 3. Under the main cooling tower."

"Looks like a Goddamn town meetin'." Hicks muttered, staring at the screen. "Was that last stand here just a diversion to keep the civvies safe?" Shepard had to admit that it wasn't a bad idea, but it didn't add up in her mind.

"No… because they would be back here by now." She sighed, rubbing at the back of her head. "They're either stuck there, or something worse. Apone? Ops Center, double-time." Shepard called out over the radio. "Get everyone here. We got ourselves a rescue mission."

* * *

2nd Lieutenant Jane Shepard walked into the office that contained the little girl, Rebecca Jorden, who was sitting on a chair, Ellen Ripley sitting right next to her. The little girl was holding a cup of what smelled like hot chocolate, and Ripley had cleaned off the worst of the grime off the girl's face. No longer did her eyes seem like two wide, terrified orbs set in a sooty face. Now they were just two wide, terrified orbs set on a clean face. Shepard thought of that video, of what that girl saw. She had been right there when her father had died, when the thing had come from his chest. Did she watch that happen with others? Did she see others with facehuggers attached to them? How, by the Gods, did this girl manage to survive when it appeared like no one else did?

"Hey." Shepard spoke quietly, hoping she wasn't interrupting too much of a conversation between Rebecca and Ripley, the both of them looking to her. "We found the other colonists in the processing plant. I've already briefed the squad, and we're going to be heading out to the APC here in a few minutes." Ripley nodded at that, looking at her with eyes that no longer seemed so haunted. "I'm having everyone go. I don't want to leave you to here in case we need to pull out or need to do something extreme. You'll be safer in the GRZLY than in the complex."

"I understand, Lieutenant. Thank you." Ripley replied, turning to the little girl. "Newt? Are you ready to go, sweetheart?" The girl merely looked to Ripley and nodded her head slightly, obviously still too traumatized to talk too much. 'Newt' must be a nickname that Rebecca had, something she told Ripley. That was good, it was a start towards trust. Her own mother used to call her 'Janey', and her adopted father still did when they weren't around others. She thought about her Pop, David, with a smile; it seemed childish to wish that he were here with her, but there was no one else in the galaxy she'd rather have at her side than Pop.

"Well, as I said, we're taking everyone," Shepard emphasized, reaching to a nearby table on the opposite side of the wall of the room where Ripley and Rebec… 'Newt' sat, kept purposefully out of their line of view. "We found someone who needs a little TLC, and I was wondering if either of you two ladies would like to look out for this tough guy here." The Lieutenant pulled out a plastic cage that contained a wire wheel, a plastic water bottle, some wood shavings, and a gerbil. "Seems somebody's been going through the trouble of feeding this guy, and I'd hate to see him lonely."

"Hamtaro!" The little girl called out, now all smiles. The effect on the girl was instantaneous, and her change of demeanor was positive. Shepard had been right; someone had been feeding the little guy, caring for Hadley's Hope's only other survivor, and it had been Newt. Giving the girl something she could focus on, something positive, would undoubtedly help. Perhaps it had been the child's pet, or perhaps she discovered it. Undoubtedly, when this girl had been wandering corridors, alone and frightened, Hamtaro must had been a Godsend to her when she either found him or remembered him. Alone and afraid, Rebecca Jorden had kept the gerbil alive. Most adults wouldn't have done such a thing, but a child would have. Shepard hadn't thought of that before, when Hudson first discovered the pet in a room on the same level as the Ops Center. Same level they had found Newt on. It seemed obvious now. While she waited for the others in the 343 to come back from their sweeps and patrols, Hudson had taken a minute to go back to the room he had found the gerbil in, having made the connection himself. Shepard handed the plastic cage to Newt, whose little hands grasped it quickly and fiercely, her eyes no longer so wide, so terrified. Newt looked up and smiled at her. "Thank you, Lieutenant."

"My pleasure." Shepard replied with a smile, motioning Ripley to approach her. The woman got out of her seat stepped just outside the room where she could still keep and eye on Newt. "Ripley, we're going in, and I have no idea what we're going to find, or how bad it's going to be. So, two things for you. First is this." Shepard handed the woman an OCD. "If shit goes south, you are to take the APC and get a dust-off from Chief Ferro. Someone needs to know what the hell happened here, and you're the messenger."

"Okay." Ripley took the disk, placing it into one of her work overalls cargo pockets.

"Second, is this." Shepard handed an M3 Predator to Ripley, who looked at the gun. "I know you're not a Marine, but I have no doubt in my mind that when push comes to shove, you have no issues pulling the trigger. That little girl watched her father as something came out of his chest, just like you did with Kane back on the _Nostromo_. Creepy-crawly comes? Put fucking bullets into it until it is down. You find someone with their face being hugged? You give them mercy. Do I make myself clear?" There was no mistaking the steel in Shepard's voice. Though she hadn't seen the act that Ripley had described on the _Nostromo_, watching a man scream in pain as something burst through his ribcage, she saw a picture of it. It was more than enough.

"Crystal, El-Tee. Never again." The woman promised, her own eyes hard. The fear was still there, but that survivor's determination, that will that kept her alive alone on a ship with a creature none had ever met before, was pushing back that fear. It was as Carter Burke said back on Arcturus in Ripley's apartment; she needed to come out and face this thing, to get back on that horse. She needed to fight the nightmares, and Shepard was giving her the means.

"Good." Shepard gave the woman a reassuring smile. "Get Newt some food, and get yourselves ready. We're going to hell in an APC."

* * *

A/N: I tried meshing the M56 Smart Gun with a Mass Effect weapon, making the Marshal. The Tracking System becomes a VI-driven system, while the rounds become shaved pieces of metal. Otherwise, the statistics are pretty close to the M56 as highlighted in the Colonial Marines Technical Manual Handbook by Lee Brimmicombe-Wood, published by HarperPrism

PID - Positive Identification, for you non-military types. You know, recognize a threat before you start putting bullets into an innocent person.

In the movie _Aliens_, Newt retreats into some sort of air duct throughway, mostly because Gorman was forcing everyone to get Newt. Instead, Shepard steps back and lets Ripley coax the little girl, which is why this doesn't happen. The conversations that Ripley had with Newt are missing as this is in Shepard's POV, and she wasn't there for it. The gerbil idea was purely my own, as the movie missed why a pet would survive a ghost colony.

And yes, 'Hamtero' is a cartoon hamster, not a gerbil. But I couldn't think of anything else.


	7. Chapter 7: Please Kill Me

_Disclaimer: BioWare owns Mass Effect. 20th Century Fox owns the __Alien__ franchise. _

**LV-426, November 16, 2176**

"Aw'right! Let's go, people!" Gunnery Sergeant Apone's voice rang out through the colony's garage, the M577 GRZLY parked near the entrance that would lead to the colony complex. "They ain't paying us by the hour! Let's go, let's head 'em out! Frost? You're driving!" The Marines of the 343 Mobile Infantry clamored into the APC through the crew door, grim but ready, weapons in hand or stored on them in carrying configurations as Private Ricco Frost went through the hellhole of the APC to reach the driver's hole. 2nd Lieutenant Jane Shepard waited by the crew door, letting the Marines in first as she did a quick head count, satisfied that everyone was there. She wasn't happy taking Carter Burke, Ellen Ripley, and Rebecca Jorden onto the APC on what could potentially be a firefight, but the APC really was the safest place for them. Marines and civilians loaded, Shepard nodded to Apone, who grimly nodded back at her, the man's dark face a quiet exhibit of lethal intent. Shepard climbed through the crew door, entering the APC before the Gunny, sliding in with the second squad as Alliance Science Officer Lance Bishop sat in the Mobile Tactical Operations Bay chair, giving a quick glance at the monitors to see that everything was on-line and functioning properly, turning to her and giving her a quick nod.

"Frost? Let's move out." Shepard ordered through her radio.

"_Roger, El-Tee. Shake and bake._" The Private responded as the APC spun to life, gunning its way out of the garage a few moments later, and Shepard looked at one of the monitors on the TacOps, seeing the Stygian landscape passing by them on the monitor as the atmospheric station loomed in the hazy distance some two klicks away. The APC rocked and rattled over the craggy landscape of LV 426, Frost having to swerve at times to avoid the worse of the dips and rises that might have injured the occupants, keeping the atmospheric station more or less in view as the GRZLY traversed the distopian environment of the moon. "_El-Tee? ETA to Station access lock less than 5 mikes._"

"Good work, Frost." Shepard told him, nodding to Apone. "Marines, stand-by for deployment. First squad is taking point, second squad flanking. Ripley? You're secondary driver in case we need the APC scooted. Bishop, you've got TOC duties." Her orders were easily understood as she looked to the monitor that showed the front view of the APC, and she saw an access ramp come into view, blocked by an access door. "One minute, people! Look sharp, look alive!" The APC's jostling ended as it drove onto the access ramp, and the sound of the access door opening, the hum of machinery and hydraulics overcame the rumbling of the APC's engine for a moment before they proceeded to move in. The GRZLY drove in easily enough, heading into the complex for about a hundred or so meters before stopping at a maintenance access point that would gain them entry though a majority of the complex, discovered by PFC Hudson on the schematic of the station. The crew door opened, and so unlike their usual bravado, the Marines were grim and silent as they filed out of the APC, their weapons at the ready as they lined up by the access hatch that would have them entering into the the atmospheric station's maintenance walkways.

"Alright." Shepard called out as she pointed towards Hudson, and then to the door, indicating that she wanted him to open it, the squad's technician accessing his Omnitool and plugging it into the hatch's access computer. The hatch opened easily enough, the door sliding open to reveal the base of the station, a maze of catwalks and pipes, illuminated by dim lights and amber strobes. "I want a straight B-deployment. Second squad, we'll take left flank. Advance on axial six-six-four. Trackers on-line. Set the V-gain to filter out RF ambient. First squad, move out!"

"Al'right, Hudson. Tracker on-line." Apone called out quietly, Hudson first through the door as the rest of first squad followed behind him. "_Left and right, little buddy._" The Gunny's voice came over the radio as first squad disappeared into the hatch, walking on a metal-rigged platform that was lined with piped handrails and floored with grating.

"Second squad, move in." Shepard told her team, taking the lead as Hicks, Vasquez, and Dietrich followed behind her. "Vaz? You've got rear-watch. Hicks? Tracker. Dietrich, high-watch. Wierzbowski, you're behind me." Her boots hit grating, the sound of metal accompanying every foot fall she and her Marines made as she scanned what was in front of her with her M7 Lancer, seeing first squad's rear guard, Private Crowe, in front of her by about ten meters. "Apone? Forty meters in, bearing two-two-one, there should be a stairwell heading downward…"

"_Check. Got it._" Apone's voice came back to her.

"We want Sub-Level 3. Should be five flights down." Shepard replied over the throat-mike, seeing the first squad disappearing down a metal staircase framed with rails, leading deeper into the industrial complex, a rotating amber light only making the gloom of the ill-lit walkway barely tolerable.

"_Let's go, people. Hudson, you got point._" The Gunny's voice called up, even and quiet. "_Nice and easy, and check those corners…_"

"Here's the staircase." Shepard called out to her squad, checking further into the complex before taking a right onto the metal grating steps that would lead her downward, a illuminated sign indicating that they were on Level 2.

"_Check those corners!_" Apone snapped as Shepard took the point for her squad, her Lancer dancing from shadow to shadow, her Assault Rifle's light illuminating everything she pointed it at, destroying the darkness and clearing the dead zones. Her feet glided from step to step without her having to look down, clearing a corner of the stairwell before going around it, taking the next flight down to another walkway, made of metal plating this time, the level seemingly more solid than the catwalk they were on before, suspended above air. They were on ground level of the moon, now. "_Watch your spacing!_" The Gunny warned, the Senior NCO on top of his game; leading men while ensuring their maximum proficiency. "_Don't bunch up. Stay loose._"

"_We're starting to show a lot of interference._" Alliance Science Officer Lance Bishop called out over the radio from his post on the M577 APC. "_I'm getting a lot of break-up on your transmission._"

"Probably getting some interference from the structure itself, plus the operational machinery." Shepard replied as she passed by a pump that looked to be connected to a water main. She passed by a sign that labeled the floor 'Sub-Level 1'. "Apone, you should be reaching Sub-Level 3. Proceed on a two-one-six when you do so."

"_Roger, El-Tee. Just arrived, going on a two-one-six._" The Gunny confirmed. "_Watch your lights, people. Hudson, shine your light on…_" The radio transmission died out, from interference or Apone's halted words, Shepard couldn't say.

"_Jesus Christ._" Someone said over the radio; Crowe, perhaps. The static was making it hard to tell. Had they found something?

"Gunny? Report." Shepard called out.

"_El-Tee? You're going to want to see this shit._"

* * *

It was a cave.

It was the only thing that 2nd Lieutenant Jane Shepard could think of when she found first squad standing in a defensive position outside what appeared to be a cave. Honestly, she had no explanation as to what she was looking at, and her human brain just used the closest comparison she could come up with. It honestly didn't look too different from what one would see on earth, a hole in a mountain.

Except this wasn't any cave.

Sitting in front of the 343 Mobile Infantry was a gateway to hell.

The corridor that was in front of the had a concrete floor, framed with pipes, supports, and various mechanical components that kept the structures' machinery running at optimal performance. Yet ten meter into Sub-Level 3, just off the junction where the stairway had deposited the Marines, was a… Shepard could only describe it as '_gunk_'; some sort of strange solidified substance coating everything. Her eyes traced a pipe that ran towards the direction that they were heading, terminating at the beginning of the gunk, which seemed to coat everything, turning the corridor into some sort of tunnel made of a hardened resin that was blackish in color, and without any dimension. It looked as if the hallway had been dipped into black hot wax, and stood out to let dry, coming up with a strange sort of Salvador Dali-like landscape; melted plateaus, dripping walls, stalagmites and stalactites, and a cave-like appearance frozen in time by the strange substance. It had completely cover up the refinery-like lattice pipes and conduits, laid over the the concrete flooring, and even seeped through the upper part of piping and support pieces that would make a roof, turning the corridor into… well, a cave. That it wasn't natural was obvious. No human hands had made this. Nor had any natural event.

"_I'm not making that out too well._" Lance Bishop said over the radio, undoubtedly recording everything. "_What are we looking at?_"

"You tell me man, I only work here." Hudson muttered, his eyes wide on the hole, as most of theirs were. Shepard took a few tentative steps forward, shining her light on the wax-like cave structure, seeing if the illumination would reveal anything else to her. She looked over to Drake and Vasquez, the Squad Automatic Gunners pointing their deadly M56 Marshal Light Machine Guns right at the hole while the other Marines had set a short perimeter, though most were having a hard time keeping their eyes off the hole.

"Drake, Vaz? Cover us." Shepard told the Gunners, slapping Hudson on the arm, and pointing her hand forward, tapping his tracker to indicate what she wanted. Hudson nodded, his face a little pale, but he did what she asked. He held his left arm forward as Shepard held her Lancer out, ready to fire as Drake stood to Shepard's left and Vasquez to Hudson's right, their M56's pointing out and ready as Hudson set the pace, slow and deliberate. Shepard could hear the rhythmic '_thumping_' of Hudson's Omnitool tracker, pulsing out twice a second without any contacts as they approached the cave-like entrance.

Twenty meters and closing. Fifteen. Ten. Five.

"Apone, we're in the clear." Shepard whispered into her throat-mike as the four of them stood in front of the entrance to the strange structure, the hole itself taller than Drake, though only wide enough for one of them to fit through comfortably at any point of time. "No signal, no sight of anything." The bright beams of Vasquez's and Drake's Marshals illuminated the passageway well, but not very deep; Shepard could probably only see seven to ten meters in, but no further. "Ripley? Do you know what this stuff is?"

"_I… I don't know._" Ripley replied, her voice low and worried. It wasn't helping the mood.

"Bishop? Pull up the complex schematics? Find us another route to the colonists. This thing's a Godsdamn choke point and a fatal funnel."

"_Wait one while I find an alternate route._" Lance Bishop's voice came over the radio, and she heard Hudson breath out a sigh of relief beside her. Shepard looked to the squad's technician, who looked a little panicky at the thought of walking in through the unnatural opening. Shepard noted that the man hadn't made one wisecrack in a few minutes; something to note. "_Lieutenant? I've pulled up the schematic with Mr. Burke._" The Science Officer replied a few minutes later, the four of them having held their position at the cave's entrance. "_There really isn't another path that we can find from that end of the structure. The only other access is on the complete other side of the facility, which will require you coming back to the APC, driving around the complex, and entering in from the other direction. I don't think that a likely course of action, as you might find the very same thing on the other side, or it may be completely blocked off._"

"Shit." Shepard breathed out, knowing that Bishop had a very valid point. "Apone? I'm going need someone to scout this out, see how deep it goes and where it leads. Someone with brains."

"Hicks. You're up." The Gunny identified immediately, and a few moments later, Corporal Hicks came up to them, pulling out his M23 Katana Express off the hard point on his back after stowing his M7 Lancer.

"Yeah, I like to keep this handy…" Hicks informed her with a cocky grin, racking the heat-sink's action, "…for close encounters." Hicks slipped the pump onto his wrist of his left arm, keeping his Omnitool pointed forward for the tracker while at the same time being able to aim his shotgun at a potential threat. Shepard approved. "One tunnel rat, goin' in. See you guys next week." The Corporal drawled out with his accent, making Vasquez snort. Hicks slowly made his way into the pseudo-cave's entrance, testing the substance with a foot, finding it to be more than solid enough to stand on. He then walked into the tunnel, the light of his shotgun illuminating the path in front of him as his worked his way in deeper, a silhouette in the pitch blackness of the tunnel as Drake and Vasquez pointed their Marshals elsewhere to avoid flagging the Corporal with their weapons, Hudson turning off his tracker so it wouldn't read Hick's movement. Shepard had her own Lancer's buttstock planted on her hip as she watched Hick's disappear into the tunnel, feeling dread seeping into her. She really hoped that she wasn't sending the man into a death trap or an ambush, but that's why she had asked for a scout; better one man than a squad or the entire platoon. They stood by the entrance for what seemed to be a quite a long time, but Shepard's chronometer stated was only five minutes before Hick's voice came back onto the radio.

"_I'm through._" The sound of his drawl had Shepard sigh in relief. "_No contacts. Tunnel only has a few bends, but no twists or turns. Dumps off at fifty meters into what appears to be the main maintenance floor of this facility. Probably where most of the work was done. Big and open._" That had the Lieutenant relieved. "_But… I'm not sure how to describe what I'm seein'. Looks like I walked onto the set of a horror movie or somethin'._"

"Alright. We're coming in." Shepard snapped her fingers, calling the attention of the rest of the Marines, circling her finger and point it at the spot right in front of her; hand-and-arm signal for everyone to rally to her. "Vaz and Drake are first through the tunnel, with Hicks as the tracker. Apone? You lead the rest of your squad behind them, and I'll follow up with my squad, and I'll take Hudson as a replacement. As soon as we're through, Frost and Crowe will be door guard on this tunnel. You two will protect our exit in case we need to do a hasty exfil." She didn't like having to split them off, but Shepard didn't want to leave the only route they cleared unguarded. "Apone? Move them out."

"Let's go, heavies." The Gunny, looked to Drake and Vasquez, nodding to them as Vasquez went in first with her Marshal pointing in, Drake hot on her heals with his held higher so he could fire it over her shoulder if needed. Apone went in next with Frost and Crowe following.

Shepard nodded to Wierzbowski, having him go in first as she pointed to Hudson, pointed at her own eyes, and then pointed behind her; she wanted him to keep eyes on their backs. Hudson nodded in the affirmative as she went in next, the Corpsman Dietrich right behind her as Hudson took rear guard, the rhythmic 'thumping' of his tracker accompanying him.

And they proceeded to walk into hell.

* * *

The 343 Mobile Infantry walked down the cave-like corridor in a broken line, their feet treading upon the strange solidified substance that made the tunnel they were in, as hard as steel, yet looking like a melted wax structure. Water pooled in some places on the floor from where the liquid dripped from holes along the 'ceiling' of the tunnel, or running down the walls. The black tunnel was a choke point, filled with stalagmites from the ground, as well as stalactites from the ceiling, forcing the Marines to either move around the ground obstructions, or to duck under the ceiling protrusions. 2nd Lieutenant Jane Shepard walked with slow deliberation, the back of Private Wierzbowski in front of her as she fought not to wipe at the sweat that seemed to have sprung on her brow. It was humid and hot in the tunnel; it felt like an oven and a sauna at the same time.

"_Watch your firing and check your targets._" The sound of Gunnery Sergeant Al Apone's voice came over her earpiece for the whole platoon to hear, his voice authoritative yet reassuring. "_Remember, we're looking for civvies in here._"

"Tightening it up, Ski." Shepard told the Private in front of her, unable to see Crowe anymore in front of Wierzbowski. "We're getting a little thin."

"_Nice and easy, people._" Apone reiterated.

"Looks like some sort of secreted resin." Corporal Dietrich said to no one in particular behind her, and Shepard turned to see that the Navy Corpsman had a small piece of stalactite in her hand, snapped off.

"Yeah, but secreted from what?" Weirzbowski asked, mystified.

"Nobody touch nothing." Shepard relayed to the man and woman right next to her, as well as the whole platoon.

"_Man, hot as hell in here._" Frost said, and Shepard agreed. She was soaked in sweat.

"Yeah, man, but it's a dry heat." Hudson hooted, somehow able to find his sense of humor despite feeling as if they were being cooked alive. Where did he find the time during sweating to tease, Shepard thought to herself, wiping away a sheen of sweat.

"_Knock it off, Hudson._" Apone growled over the radio.

Shepard saw that ahead the tunnel finally ended, and felt her eyes open and her jaw drop as she exited the tunnel herself, taking a few steps out and taking a slow spin, taking it all in what she was seeing. She could see why Hicks would have a hard time describe what he was seeing; it did look like the set of some cheap sci-fi horror flick. The bones of the industrial complex were apparent, pipes and grating were seen, along with the cheap industrial lighting for illumination that seemed too weak for such a setting. Rails and pipes surrounded the sides of the catwalks and grating to keep people from accidentally falling off or backing off a platform and falling, while large tanks and mechanical apparatus were stationed in various portions of the large complex, undoubtedly a part of the atmospheric station's terraforming plant. Yet that wasn't the only thing she was seeing. Coating perhaps half of the surfaces was the same sickly resin secretion that the tunnel had been composed of, though nowhere near as complete or as thick-looking. It looked like someone had melted wax and dripped over a good half of the interior structure.

Then there were the pods.

Coming out of some of the larger apparatuses and support beams for the superstructure were large cocoon-like pods hanging from their perches, almost looking like grub cocoons or moth cocoons. They seemed almost made of the same substances that was secreted on the walls and pipes of the superstructure, except slimier and stickier looking.

Shepard noticed that she could see hundreds of them.

"_Lieutenant?_" Ripley's voice came over the radio, the transmission coming in crackled and broken. "_What do those Lancers fire?_" Seriously? She was asking what their weapons fired? Shepard had to remind herself that Ripley had been in hypersleep since before the founding of the Prothean Archives on Mars.

"The ammo comes from a standard block of high-tensile steel," Shepard answered, "shavings the size of a grain of sand that's hyper-accelerated to a fraction of the speed of light through the means of a mass effect field and a mass-accelerating electromagnetic rail. It's standard for all weapons. Why?"

"_Well, look where your platoon is._" The woman replied, the static not enough to interfere with her conversation, though it was getting close. "_They're right underneath the primary heat exchangers of that atmospheric processor._"

"Okay… so?" Shepard looked up, and all she saw were pipes and pumps, some covered in the resin.

"_So… if you fire your weapons, you'll rupture the cooling system._" Ripley finished.

"_Shit… she's right._" Burke jumped in, and Shepard found herself looking at Apone, who was looking right back at her. "_Look, this whole station is basically a big fusion reactor that creates anti-matter from the means of particle accelerator, and uses the matter/anti-matter detonations to fuel it. We're talking a potential containment breach of the anti-matter fuel, or a breakdown of the coolant system in the fusion reactor. Either way, we're talking about a thermonuclear explosion and… adios, muchachos._"

"Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me." Shepard swore under her breath as the Marines began to look around at one another. "You're asking us to… what? Use harsh language? We've got potential hostiles in here and you want me to have my men sling rifles?" She snorted, looked around at the men and women with the 343, seeing their eyes on her. "Yeah, fuck that. Marines? Fire on direct contact only. No suppression fire, and no grenades unless we need to retreat. If we hit something bad, immediate evac and dust-off. Copy?" There were a choir of _Roger, El-Tee_ from the platoon, and Shepard saw Apone nod his head in approval. What, did they think she was going to have everyone eject ammo blocks? Only the truly righteously stupid would do that in a potentially hostile situation! "Apone? Let's head them out. The moment I see any evidence that there's no one here to save, we're exfil'ing and getting the fuck outta dodge. Fuck this place." Hudson replied with a hearty _hoo-rah_, and most of the others were smiling and nodding their heads in agreement. "But we need that proof. Gunny?"

"Aw'right, people, we still got a job to do. You heard the lady!" Apone called out, nodding his head. "Hicks, take point with Drake and Vasquez at your wings. Everyone else, keep it close and tight, and keep your eyes open. Hudson? Cover our asses!" Corporal Hicks took the lead with his tracker, both Gunners at his side as they moved at a slow pace, their feet clanking softly against the metal grating of the platform they were on as the first squad moved behind them. Shepard let them get several meters forward before indicating for Wierzbowski to move forward as well, taking her own position behind the Private. Frost and Crowe had already peeled off from the first squad, taking defensive positions by the tunnel's entrance. The platoon moved forward for about another three hundred meters, the lights of their guns sweeping over everything that they were looking at, shining on the industrial complex with its resin-coated addition, sometimes thicker in some places than others. Shepard's Lancer illuminated a Corporate sign on one of the walls, reading 'Axis Chemicals', half covered in the strange substance at one junction, making her snort.

"_Madre de Dios…_" Vasquez spoke over the radio, her voice disturbed. "_Gunny? El-Tee? You guys need to see this shit._"

"Moving up." Shepard called out, moving forward through the group, passing by Wierzbowski and taking a turn on the platform, the other ways clogged by the secreted resin substance from ceiling to floor. She walked into another part of the complex…

…And found herself looking at a wall of living horror.

* * *

_Space. Though she never admitted to it, any viewport that contained the blackness of space and the points of lights of stars absolutely terrified her. Men had nightmares of strange creatures and the boogieman, while others feared what went bump in the night. For 2nd Lieutenant Jane Shepard, it was space itself; the great inky void. Whenever she was on a ship, she would always avoid looking at any available viewport, and make sure that if any were present in her cabin, that they were covered securely enough that she couldn't even accidentally pull it down. She had, after all, spent over five days in a one-man life pod with only the great black to look out into through a view port, the fragments of the Iwo Jima to accompany her… along with the floating bodies of those who hadn't made it._

_Her mother having been one of them._

_Now she had a new nightmare._

2nd Lieutenant Jane Shepard found herself looking at something that was beyond horrifying, beyond description. What she was looking at… was simply beyond even the worst descriptors that Hell could have ever been. She felt herself gulping, her eyes wide as she slowly scanned the depths of the complex she had walked into, Gunnery Sergeant Al Apone next to her, profusely sweating and cursing softly. Corporal Hicks, along with PFC Vasquez and Private Drake, stood within feet of them, none of them saying a word as they all stared at the sight that was unfolded before them.

"Gods…" Shepard breathed out slowly, her voice quaking as she felt fear stabbing into her like a cold, sharp knife. She had suspected something, but what she was seeing was beyond the worst thing she could have possibly imagined. She had thought of Rebecca's father, lying on a gurney with a facehugger gripping his skull. That she had expected. That was what she thought they would be finding.

Russel Jorden had no idea how lucky he had been.

All along every wall and metal beam large enough to support them were the hanging bodies of the colonists of Hadley's Hope, suspended at various heights from just a few feet from the grated platform to some twenty feet in the air. What secured them there was something akin to the secretions they had been seeing through the complex, but different. A snotty sort of mucus covered each of the colonists, entombing them in strange positions, their bodies twisted and contorted. The mucus was mostly translucent, a clearish white substance that seemed more an epoxy than anything, though it held the colonists' bodies well enough to suggest its tensile strength. It was obviously strong enough to withstand the struggles and panicked throes of the colonists had they woken up to find themselves situated so, securing them in place despite their struggles. It reminded Shepard of certain spider's webs, and she wondered if struggling against it would alert anything.

That wasn't the worst.

Along the grating of the platform of Sub-Level 3 were strange egg-like shells planted along the flooring, their leathery shells thick as they stood like sentinels along the grating, silent and unmoving. Shepard could see that the eggs were… hatched, for lack of a better term. The tops were split open into four even sections, peeled away, exposing the interior of the eggs. She looked at the closest one, only a few feet from her, and saw a white membrane lining, but nothing inside to indicate what it had hatched. Hicks answered the question by dipping down and picking up with his shotgun barrel something that caught his eye, rotating to show them his find. It was the corpse of a facehugger, like they had seen in the Med Lab, brown and dried-out looking. Shepard sucked in her breath as he tossed the corpse aside.

That wasn't the worst.

The colonists on the walls, they easily numbered in the hundreds. Seven hundred and forty-three signals had been located using the colony's mainframe, and though the section they were in was large and labyrinthine, it was easy to see that they were looking at a majority of them, and the rest were probably there as well, just not within eyesight. All were covered in the apoxy-like membrane that contained them all over the Sub-Level's walls and riggings, entombed. Yet what she noticed from the nearest once she could see were the wounds they had. Each one that she looked at, well over a dozen, all had their rib cages burst outwards, exploded from within. The gaping maws that were in the center of their chests were easily large enough for her to fit her fist through, painful and lethal. The colonists had been brought here, entombed on the walls where the eggs were, brought as hosts for the facehuggers. Then they had been impregnated with the embryos which grew within them until they reached a certain size, and then burst out of them, killing the colonists, and giving birth to Ripley's creature.

Hundreds of them.

"Apone? Mission complete." Shepard whispered quietly, the Gunny looking over to her. "There ain't nothing we can do here for them but go back on the _Sulaco_ and orbital strike this place until its glassed. We exfil. Now. Quietly."

"You won't have to tell me twice." The Gunnery Sergeant's eyes went back to the macabre sight before them, shuddering. "Shit. Shanxi wasn't this bad. Marines? Quietly fall back, center peel. Don't engage nothing unless we see a squidy." His orders came with a voice that, normally loud, was strangely quiet. Gunny was as frightened as a hardcore veteran allowed himself to be.

"As soon as we're back on the APC, we're getting dust-off, and we're getting the fuck off this rock." Shepard told Apone. "A descent missile down the cooling tower should disrupt the system enough to induce a melt down or chain reaction. Either way, nothing comes out of this motherfucker alive."

"Fucking A, El-Tee." The Gunny replied, his tone approving. He looked to the dead colonists for a moment. "Poor bastards. Hicks, Vasquez, Drake, prepare to fall back and peel. El-Tee? You're first."

A moan from their left caught their attention.

Shepard and Apone exchanged a glance, looking to the direction of the moan, the lights of their Lancers pointing right at the the source of the noise. Shepard took two steps forward, seeing that her light connected with a entombed colonists who was hanging at ground level, head bowed down, suspended in a crucifixion position. She approached the colonist, pulling the head upward, and found herself looking at a teenaged woman, her face pale and gaunt, seemingly dead.

Then her eyes snapped open.

"Shit! We got a live one!" Shepard called out, shocked that anyone was still alive from the colony. Her eyes touched the colonists' eyes, seeing the pleading look in them.

"Please… kill me." The teenager begged, startling Shepard, taken aback by the request. She found herself looking downward at the egg that she had stepped around unconsciously to reach the woman at first, seeing that it was peeled back like a blooming flower. In front of the woman's cocoon was the corpse of a dried-out facehugger.

_It's already too late for her_, Shepard realized, her heart torn.

"Please? Kill me?" The teenager begged again, coughing, her weak voice pleading as Shepard looked to Apone, the Gunny seeing the same things she was. Holding her Lancer in her right hand, she pulled out her M3 Predator Heavy Pistol with her left, putting the barrel of the sidearm just below where the woman's sternum should have been, where she had seen the bulge in Rus Jorden's picture when he had given birth. The teenager nodded, her face never changing, even when her eyes looked at the pistol pointed right at her chest.

"Go with the Gods." Shepard spoke quietly before she pulled the trigger three times. The gunshots were loud in the complex, breaking through the silent reverie among the bodies and industrial equipment. Three bloody holes punched their way into the woman's chest, the speck of metal that the Predator fired expanding on contact with the intent to cause as much internal damage as possible as soon as it hit flesh or armor. The woman looked at her one last time with closing eyes, her breath gurgling out from her mouth and chest as her head slumped downward, death claiming her. Shepard's Predator was still at the woman, and she realized that she was hyperventilating.

"El-Tee?" Hick's touched her left forearm, and it startled her as her eyes locked onto his, breaking her out of her reverie. "You did good, Jane. I would ask for and expect the same thing."

"I… thank you." She probably didn't have to tell anyone that it was the first time she had ever shot someone, ever killed someone. Yet what Hicks said calmed her a little bit; she saved a woman already dead. "Let's get out of here."

And throughout the cavernous space of the complex, the sounds of shrilling hisses were heard by the Marines, a noise they didn't understand, a noise they would come to fear. And it was accompanied by the '_ping_' of Hick's tracker reading contacts.

* * *

A/N: Question: where was Bishop during the Sub-Level 3 attack? Burke, Ripley, and Gorman were on the APC, and in the movie, it shows Ripley taking over the driving duties to rescue the Marines. Was he left behind at the complex? What would happen if they needed a quick extraction? In this, everyone is brought, including Bishop. I put him in charge of the monitors where Gorman was.

Axis Chemicals was the facility from the original Batman movie where Jack Nicholson did a stage dive into the acid bath, turning him into the Joker. This facility was the same movie set that Aliens was filmed in three years prior, and had been mostly untouched when Tim Burton took it over. The 'Axis Chemical's sign was an ode to the set's movie companion.

I did change some of the things in the Sub-Level 3 sequence, like leaving a rear guard (which is a simple military tactical standard) and rearranging the platoon somewhat. Sadly, most of the Marines in the movie were rather forgettable; Crowe and Wierzbowski I don't believe have any lines, and probably have, on total, maybe thirty seconds camera time all told. Spunkmeyer and Frost fare a little better with lines and probably 3 minutes between the both of them, and Ferro does decent being the drop-ship flyer with several lines and some solos. Drake had the most as a minor character with the most lines and screen time, probably close to thirty/forty lines and about 5 minutes. I wanted to give the 'minor' characters a little more time in, perhaps a few lines, like Crowe possibly puking in Ferro's bird, Wierzbowski being on TOC duty and such.

Shepard: 1 - Aliens: 0


	8. Chapter 8: Veni, Vidi, Vici

Disclaimer: BioWare owns Mass Effect. 20th Century Fox owns the_ Alien_ franchise.

MAJOR AUTHOR NOTE: See this 'Exit Canon' off-ramp here? Please take it.

**LV-426, November 16, 2176**

The '_pinging_' sound of Corporal Hicks' tracker had everyone looking to the Corporal's arm as 2nd Lieutenant Jane Shepard, Gunnery Sergeant Al Apone, PFC Vasquez and Private Drake all looked at the Omnitool, hearing the rhythmic ringing sound of contacts being detected by Hicks' Omnitool tracker program.

"Movement." Hicks called out, calm as he lifted his arm, scanning in a semi-circle in front of him. "Lots of movement."

"What's the position?" Apone asked, his M7 Lancer at the ready. Shepard had stowed her Predator on her left hip, holding her own Lancer at the ready. Hicks finished his sweep, and then he swept above them as well; a first. The Corporal grunted as he returned his Omnitool to chest level.

"Having trouble locking in." Hicks admitted sheepishly. "Multiple signals, though. Forty meters and closing."

"How many's '_multiple_'?" Shepard asked, looking to the Corporal with the tracker.

"Dozens. Easily more."

"Peel. Peel now!" Shepard called out, stepping back into the corridor. "Retreat by center peel! Drake, you're first! Go! Go! Go!" The Gunner nodded as he turned and went back towards the rest of the platoon at a run. Shepard had her Lancer ready, in line with Apone, Hicks, and Vasquez. "Apone! Go!" The Gunny looked like he was about to say something, but seemed to think better of it, and turned to move back to being the last man; a center peel. The hissing noise that had come before was growing louder as the '_pings_' off of Hicks' tracker continue to rise in pitch, indicating the contacts were getting closer.

"Thirty meters." Hicks called out, holding his shotgun at the ready.

"Vazquez! Peel!" Shepard told the other Gunner, knowing they would need her gun more, watching as the short _chica_ disappeared behind them. "Well, Corporal. I hope you have something deep and clever to say right about now."

" '_They're in front of us, behind us, and we're flanked by an enemy that outnumbers us twenty-nine-to-one_.' " Hicks said, smiling. " '_They ain't getting away, now._' "

"Chesty Puller. Very appropriate." Shepard smiled back, hearing the tracker ringing even louder. "Peel."

"El-Tee…"

"Peel, Corporal. That's an order." Shepard reiterated, looking Hicks' in the eye, no give in her whatsoever. Hicks let out a curse as he peeled, turning off his tracker as he left the line, leaving Shepard by herself as she heard the hissing screams coming even closer. She pulled from her belt three M68 fragmentary disk grenades, and set them up for '_proximity_'. She tossed the first one out a few meters in front of her as she backed away a few feet, and put the next one where she had stood, reaching the corridor that would lead her to the rest of the platoon, sticking the last one right in front of her. A few nasty surprises for their new friends.

But before she left, she wanted to see the bastards that had killed almost every colonist on this rock in the eye.

Backing away from the last grenade she had set, Shepard backed into the corridor a few meters, looking down its depths into the complex she had just left, hearing the alien screeching getting closer, her Lancer aimed down the corridor and into the only access point that connected the complex with the one her platoon was in. At first, she barely saw them, they blended in so well. They were, well… _alien_, and the testimony that Ripley had given on the events of the _Nostromo_ hadn't done the creature enough justice.

"You are one ugly motherfucker." Shepard said as she pulled the trigger on her Lancer, spitting death.

* * *

There was no doubt about it; the creature was definitely an alien.

In the time since the First Contact War, humanity had learned very quickly that not only wasn't it alone in the galaxy, but it wasn't very high up in the pecking order, either. Almost every Counsel species were superior by means of science, technology, economy, and numbers. Even such species as the pacifist Hanar and the docile Elcor had means that could give humanity the means to being kicked back to the Stone Age or worse. The Alliance, still in its infancy, had relied heavily on Corporate to make up for the deficiency by any means necessary, fighting off the militant Turians to a bloody standstill on Shanxi. The Gods knew whom the Corporations hired on for think-tanks and black-R&amp;D, but humanity shouldered its way towards the head of the pack on the galactic scene amongst the others; ships that carried anti-matter missiles, medical advancements that outstripped others, and the use of security bots and remote sentries that could stop a platoon without costing a life. Humanity used its greatest strength, adaptability, and forged the path ahead.

And guarding that path was the System Alliance Marine Corps with its M7 Lancer.

The standard battle rifle for the Alliance, it was a rugged model that, while perhaps not the most powerful or the fastest firing, proved its mettle by being a hearty weapon that averaged out better than the Turian M15 Vindicator or the Asari ERCS Banshee, either not overheating as quickly, or being able to penetrate flesh and armor better. Its simplistic design and few moving parts meant few jams, few problems, and easier to maintain. There were those of many species that swore by the Hadne-Keder Lancer, a solid weapon to own when the chips were down and something needed to be dead.

Such a weapon was in 2nd Lieutenant Jane Shepard's hands now.

She pointed it at her first victim; Ripley's xenomorph. Now she understood while it wasn't called anything else, as the creature defied any characteristics that could easily describe it. It was a bi-pedal creature, possessing a set of arms and legs that didn't seem to differ from any other sentient species in the galaxy. Yet that was about the only real thing that she could say about it. It could barely pass off as a humanoid, with its rubbery-like skin taunt against its chitinous body, as black as ink. It moved somewhere akin to a dog on all fours, bounding forward with a panther's grace, yet it was easy to tell that it could walk on its back legs just as well. Accompanying its limbs was a long, fully-functional prehensile tail that looked to be bone-line in structure, as long as a whip, and ending in a cruel barb-like spade. Four organic tube-like appendages jutted from the back, swaying softly, and Shepard assumed that the tubes represented a nose of sorts. The head was definitely something else, an elongated skull, sleek and slightly curved convexly, ending in a mouth that had seemingly no other features; no eyes, no ears, no mandibles. Even Vorcha weren't as bad. It didn't seem to carry any weapons, though she remembered the barricade that had been torn open. She did notice the claw-like hands, almost like a Turian's talons, though the creature possessed five fingers.

"You are one ugly motherfucker." Shepard said as she pulled the trigger on her Lancer, spraying a controlled burst from her Assault Rifle into the creature she saw some fifteen meters from her position, still deep enough in the complex. It hadn't reached her first grenade, so her rounds took it by surprise as her five round burst struck the creature center-mass, drilled into her in OCS at Annapolis. Her marksmanship had always gotten her high marks, and aiming through her sights, all five rounds struck the creature's chest cavity. The impact of rounds had the creature squeal in agony as its chest literally exploded, bursting open like a rotten piece of fruit dropped, spraying greenish blood over a small area in front and behind it. Shepard was surprised to see that the instant the blood touched anything, smoke wisped from the contact, and she remembered; acidic blood. Seeing the chest burst open, spraying acid over a good meter area must be some sort of natural defense mechanism, Shepard thought, the final '_fuck you_' to the creature's killer.

About four dozen angry snarls from the complex answered the death of their kin member.

"Peeling." Shepard called out over her radio, turning and running down the short corridor that would lead her to the previous complex. She rushed through the short corridor that led her into the complex, seeing Private Trevor Wierzbowski standing ten meters from the entranceway, his Lancer trained on is as she sprinted out of it. "Ski! I set up three prox grenades! The first explosion you hear? You peel!" Shepard called out as she ran by the man, letting her radio do the work as she ran for the back of the line, sweat pouring down her face as she finally past Hicks. She stopped five meters behind the Corporal, setting herself up with her rifle out, panting from the exertion of sprinting some seventy meters. The heat and the humidity of the complex weren't doing her any favors, either.

"_Heard a boom. Peeling._" Wierzbowski called out. "_Hope that fucker you fragged felt the good ole' Marine Corps boot!_" Shepard had to snort at that. If that particular creature didn't, then the ones nearest it did. A few seconds later, Wierzbowski was running by her, his Lancer held tight to his chest as he did so. He called out _Set!_ when he reached his appropriate spot behind her five meters back, letting Dietrich know to peel.

"_Heard another boom._" Hudson called out, Dietrich still hustling towards the rear of the line, the Navy Corpsman huffing as she did so. "Third one, El-Tee. Setting a prox charge at my position."

"Good call, Hudson." Shepard called out, hoping it would be effective. Her grenades had been at a choke point where the creatures wouldn't be able to go around the charges. Hudson's was out in the open, where the platform was wide and it was possible to move around it. "Frost? Crowe? Start setting charges on the tunnel's entrance, and rig them to a detonator. Seal the hole when we're through."

"_Copy, El-Tee._" Private Frost replied. "_We won't be skimpy._"

"That's what I like hearing." Shepard answered, Dietrich calling out _Set!_ as Hudson called out _Peeling!_

"_Contact, corridor entrance!_" Drake called out a split-second before the sound of the M56 Marshal Light Machine Gun opened up on the entrance.

"_Keep that weapons fire tight, Drake._" Apone called out, his voice almost drowned out by the sound of his own Lancer as he opened up as well, firing support for the Gunner.

"_Greasing bugs left and right, El-Tee! Lots 'o 'em!_" Drake informed her over the radio as Hudson called out Set! over the radio. "_El-Tee, peel or hold?_" The Gunner asked.

"Peel! Apone and Vas? Go get yourself some." Shepard replied, calling out the next two in line. "Everyone else? Eyes on flank and elevation! See a bug? Stomp on it!" Her order was met with a _Hoo-rah!_ and _Get some!_ over the earpiece, taking up Drake's new callsign for the enemy; bug. It was easier and shorter to say than '_xenomorph_' or '_Ripley's creature_'. Drake ran by, huffing as he lugged his Marshal with support cam, the 35 kilo weapon system undoubtedly a son of a bitch to run with.

"_Hey, pendejos!_" Vasquez's voice came on through the radio. "_Come say hello to my little friend! Adios, motherfuckers!_" The sound of the PFC's Marshal lighting up the creatures blaring over her radio as Shepard kept her eyes up and out, looking for signs of flanking from the xenomorphs. She snapped her rifle up at one, putting a burst into its chest when she saw that it was crawling on a wall like a squirrel on a tree. The alien burst from her grouping, acid gushing from its wounds as it dropped from the resin-coated beam it was climbing up.

"Shit. They climb walls!" Shepard announced as she shot another that was to her left, Hicks hitting another just above it. "Peel by twos when Drake is set!" Drake called out _Set!_ not two seconds later, making Gunny Apone and Vasquez turn and beat feet, Hicks moving backwards a little so that Shepard and he stood in a line, firing at the incoming enemy. She saw what Drake had first opened up on, dozens of bugs pouring out of the corridor's entrance, some on the platform's grating, but more were climbing up on the walls, leaping from one perch to another with easy, like monkeys. She fired on the closest ones as she began to walk backwards, Hicks right at her shoulder as they both fired upon bugs, each burst a death sentence for its receiver. Yet for every one that they killed, there were several more replacing them, crawling and leaping forward while others were coming out of the entrance. _Like an ant swarm_, Shepard thought to herself, _or a cockroach nest when you hit it with a light._ One bug got near Hudson's prox charge grenade, and it disappeared in a hail of fragments, taking two others with it near where the grenade went off. "Hudson? That's three for you!" Shepard called out as she fired her Lancer on full-auto, pulling the trigger and spraying as oppose to firing in the five-round bursts that the Marines hammered into their troops and officers. She fired straight at the entrance, stemming the tide of reinforcements while Hicks burst-fired the crawlers, pegging several more when Apone's voice rang out _Set!_ over the radio at the same time Shepard's rifle alarm rang out, indicating that it had overheated.

"Peeling!" Shepard called out, turning to run with Hicks as she locked back the Lancer's bolt with its lever release, dispensing waste heat out of her weapon so that it would be able to fire again. It was a stupid thing to do, letting her main weapon overheat like that, but the tide of bugs was growing quickly. What she wouldn't do for some canisters of Raid. Together, Shepard and Hicks ran to the back of the line, bounding towards the rear as quickly as they could, passing by Marines as Wierzbowski and Dietrich fired upon the bugs. "Ski! Dietrich! We're set!"

"_Peeling!_" The Navy Corpsman called out, Hudson and Drake starting to fire, the Marshal loud enough to where everyone could hear it. The death squeals of the bugs came in faster with the M56's Smart Tracking System locking in on the bounding forms of the aliens, swinging the Light Machine Gun to each tracked target, mowing down bugs at a frightening pace. "_Set!_"

"_Peeling!_" Hudson called out, both he and Drake rushing back.

"Vas! When you peel back, you and Drake set up with Crowe and Frost in defensive positions! Call us up when you're set, and we'll retreat under your covering fire!" Shepard ordered, taking out another crawling bug that was heading down a series of pipes, and then another nearby one that was bouncing back and forth on protrusions. Two more bugs fell to her Lancer, spraying acid and death squeals as their bodies fell, none of them close to Vasquez or Apone.

"_Set!_" Hudson called out. "_Drake's heading back!_"

"Vas, meet Drake! Apone, join Hudson!" Shepard ordered, firing faster bursts with her Lancer, concentrating on the ones either on the platform or close to it, as was Hicks. An easy dozen fell to their Assault Rifles while Wierzbowski and Dietrich covered their flanks, shooting bugs that were crawling on the walls, pipes, and beams. Apone and Hudson were doing the same thing from further back, trying to stem the tide of xenomorphs from reaching them. Shepard took out another three by sweeping her Lancer in a short arc from left to right, her auto-fire bringing them down in quick succession. Hicks did the same, taking down four as Shepard took a glance at her Lancer's heat sink limit, seeing that the gauge was two-thirds full. She let out a curse as she pulled out her M9 Tempest, holding her Lancer with her left hand as she fired her sub-machine gun on full-auto towards the swarm of bugs one-handed. She fired a full 35 rounds towards the aliens before her Tempest quit firing due to its heat sink reaching its limit of conduction before melting, stopping the weapon from firing until she rocked back the slide to dispense the waste heat. Shepard racked the slide back with her left forearm, slapping it on her right hip before shouldering her Lancer and putting another five-round burst into another bug. Her next burst had the Lancer's overheat alarm ring out as she racked the slide back, slapping it on a hard point on her chest and pulled out her Predator, putting three rounds into the nearest alien towards her, only four meters away. The one behind it got another another three rounds, as did its companion next to it. Two more bugs went down with her Heavy Pistol, the last one only two meters from her as Hicks switched to his M-23 Katana Express, blasting one xenomorph after another, racking the slide with each shot to dispense a little bit of heat with each successive shot to bring his shot count up to eight instead of five. Shepard started to back away slowly as the last three rounds of her Predator killed an Alien only a meter and a half away, the spray of acid accompanying her shots a little too close for comfort. She thrusted her Predator back on her leg as she pulled out her Tempest from her hip, cradling it with both hands and putting a pulse of fire into an alien.

"_We're set_!" Drake finally called out.

"Fucking finally!" Shepard breathed out a sigh of relief as both she and Hicks turned tail and ran, the creatures getting too close to them as Wierzbowski and Dietrich put into two more burst before turning in front of them and running just ahead of them, Gunny Apone and Hudson doing the same. All six Marines sprinted towards the tunnel where their for compatriots waited, and Shepard heard the sound of two Marshal Light Machine Guns speaking, the tracking guns killing xenomorphs with a short burst in rapid succession, using fewer rounds than their Lancers while holding a higher heat sink capacity. It was exactly what Shepard had been counting on; twin Marshals mowing down the competition while they beat feet. Though they were a hundred meters away from the tunnel's entrance, it was hardly a distance for the Light Machine Guns or its VI-driven tracking system, installed with an Identify Friend/Foe Engagement Chip in which all Marine Onyx Armor had the receiver so it eliminated the possibility of fratricide. The six of them hustled to the defensive position, covered by two Marshals and two Lancers by Frost and Crowe. Shepard could hear the squeals of xenomorphs as they were engaged, their numbers being cut down as the retreating team closed the distance to the tunnel's entrance. When they got within ten meters of the defensive position, Shepard began giving orders.

"Hudson, Dietrich, Hicks, Ski! Head through that tunnel! Double-time it!" Shepard called out as the rest of them made a line, raising their rifles and began firing as the four identified Marines peeled off, sliding their way into the tunnel. Shepard engaged one xenomorph after another, bringing down several before locking her bolt back to eject the waste heat from the heat sink. After a few seconds, she rocked the slide back and continued firing, bringing down more bugs, the line of six Marines chopping through their numbers quickly, holding them back for the moment.

"_El-Tee! We're set!_" Hicks' called out over the earpiece.

"Apone, Frost, Crowe, you're next! Get ready to thumb charges!" Shepard called out, leaving her with Drake and Vasquez. "Gunners? Eliminate with extreme prejudice." The sound of the Marshals roaring filled Shepard's ears as the Light Machine Guns laid waste to the bugs coming at them, killing them quickly and efficiently. She added her own Lancer fire to the steel rain, blasting any that seemed to get out of the Marshal's tracking arc, keeping them from getting flanked. She noted that Drake and Vasquez were artists, standing in a way where their sectors of fire barely touch one anothers', keeping them from engaging the same targets, shifting and pivoting with their guns for maximum carnage. Shepard fired her gun hot, retracting the bolt and sticking it to her chest and pulled out her Tempest, keeping up the fire, tagging a few more bugs as the sounds of acid spray sounded like rain on a tin roof, the smokey vapors of melting metal rising from the platform and superstructure of the industrial complex each time they killed. Shepard's Tempest got too hot, and she racked the slide back and placed it on her hip, drawing her Predator and continued to engage the xenomorphs, putting rounds into each with deadly proficiency. The only other sound coming to them beside the sound of rounds firing were the deathly screams of the bugs.

"_We're set!_" Apone called out.

"Roll out!" Shepard ordered, putting a five round burst into a bug not four meters away with her Lancer, having switched it out from her Predator. "Vasquez, me, then Drake. Go! Go! Go!" Vasquez ceased her firing, pivoting from her spot and rushing through the tunnel as Shepard followed suit, throwing a prox charge grenade in front of where she stood, Drake following her a second later. "Apone! Prepare to hit detonator on my mark!" She called out as she ran behind Vasquez, pivoting a few meters in and letting Drake go by her. She kept moving backwards, keeping her eye on the mouth of the tunnel fifteen meters away as she stumbled backwards, trying not to trip on a stalagmite. Her light shining on the entrance, Shepard didn't see any bugs encroaching the hole as she moved back another meter. She should be far back enough. Shepard turned and sprinted down the tunnel, intending to be as far away from the charges as possible.

"Apone? Mark!"

The '_thump_' of the series of explosives caused the tunnel to shake violently, almost spilling Shepard onto the resin-coated floor as she rushed through the rest of the tunnel, feeling a hot blast of wind pushing her forward as small bits of the hardened substance shook loose with the detonation. She pivoted where she stood, taking her Lancer, and pointed it down the tunnel.

The entrance had been buried.

"Tunnel's collapsed." Shepard called out as she turned to leave the tunnel. "Let's get on the APC and get the hell outta Dodge."

* * *

The APC rumbled to life as Alliance Science Officer Lance Bishop drove the M577 GRZLY from the atmospheric station, everyone loaded and stowed away. 2nd Lieutenant Jane Shepard sat at the Mobile Tactical Operations Bay, locked into her chair, most of the feeds turned off since the Marines were in their seats, and she had no intentions on staying on LV 426. "Chief Ferro? Find us the nearest, flattest spot you can find for an immediate dust-off and evac, and get us back onto the Sulaco."

"_Aye, aye, El-Tee._" The Warrant Officer, who had been flying above station for the operation, in case they needed air support or an exfil. "_Got one for you. Two hundred meters forward. Meet you there in 2 mikes._"

"Confirm. 200 meters away, in 2 mikes." Shepard repeated, sitting back in her seat, wiping away some of the drenching sweat off her face as she pulled off her helmet, sitting it on her knee as she let out a sigh of relief. _What a fucking day_, she thought to herself, letting herself relax. The stress of the battle, the sights, the creatures, had all worn on her, and now that lives weren't immediately on the line, she felt bone-tired, like she had been running a marathon. When she got on the _Sulaco_, she was going to take a shower, and then she'd grab herself forty winks. The After Action Review and the report could wait. It wasn't like there wasn't an eight-to-twelve hour trip back through the Relays to Arcturus Station. The APC rumbled as the sound of the UD-4's VTOL turbines began to make themselves apparent overhead, and the APC pulled forward, connecting itself with the _Cheyenne_, Chief Ferro pulling away from the surface of the moon, heading skyward. Now connected, Shepard had access to the _Cheyenne's_ medium-range transmitter, and she keyed up the intercom, to establish contact with the _Sulaco_.

"SSV _Sulaco_, SSV _Sulaco_, this is Lieutenant Shepard, come in." Shepard spoke into the intercom as the _Cheyenne_ continued to rise in elevation. She waited a moment, but got no response. "SSV _Sulaco_, SSV _Sulaco_, this is Lieutenant Shepard, come in."

All that greeted her was static.

"Ferro? Do you have visual or approach vector with the _Sulaco_?" She asked the pilot. "I'm not getting any traffic."

"_Cloud covers a bitch, and there's heavy electrical interference from a massive thunderstorm approaching fro the south, El-Tee._" The pilot informed her. "_Might be messing with the transmission and the locator. We should be in the clear as soon as we get on top of this storm. ETA, four minutes._" Shepard wordlessly nodded, leaning back in her chair, spinning it slightly to see her platoon in their seats, locked in. Most were asleep, and it seemed that Vasquez and Drake were trading kill counts to see who had '_bagged more bugs_'. That had her smile tiredly as she looked over to Ellen Ripley, who had little Rebecca Jorden sitting next to her, Newt equally asleep. Ripley was stroking the girl's dirty blonde hair, and the woman's eyes went to Shepard's giving her a slight nod of her head.

They finally got a win in.

Shepard's eyes slowly went down the line of men and women under her command, studying each of their faces. Her first command, her first mission, her first contact with an enemy. So many vids and e-books were written about such, that it almost begged to be a disaster. The fact that everyone came back alive was a victory in itself. That they had met so many of the strange creatures and killed them was nothing to be ashamed about, either. She recalled her one other combat mission, a combat drop on Benning to clear out smugglers. She had just been a tag-along, a position filled while the platoon's Lieutenant did all the work, not even asking her opinion or teaching her anything. The supposed smuggler's house had been a bust with no one inside, a clean sweep with no action where she hadn't even been in charge of a team, just an overpaid grunt.

This had been different. This felt right. It felt _good_.

"_El-Tee? We're through the worst of the storm._" Chief Ferro called out from the cockpit. "_Want to raise them or shall I?_"  
"Be my guess, Colette." Shepard replied with a tired smile. "I sit in this chair any longer, I'm officially changing its name to 'sleeper pod'." There was a laugh over the earpiece, the pilot chuckling.

"_Grab yourself some shut-eye, El-Tee. I can take it from here, and have you back in your bunk, all tucked in._"

Shepard's eyes felt as if they're mass were being increased by Eezo, too heavy to keep open as she sank into the seat, finding a mostly comfortable position. Her eyes closed as she felt sleep lulling her, sinking her through the chair and into oblivion…

_…where the dream started, deep inside Sub-Level 3. 2nd Lieutenant Jane Shepard found herself looking around, Lancer in hand as she stood before that tomb of horror, the entombed colonists suspended from their vigils. Surrounding her were facehugger eggs, each one closed and filled with a parasite, as Shepard looked about for any member of her platoon, her breath coming in fast._

_"Apone? Hicks? Hudson? ANYBODY?" Shepard called out, feeling herself hyperventilating, alone in the tomb of Hadley's Hope, isolated in the depths of a nightmare. She raised her Lancer to her shoulder, the light illuminating a colonist, the young teenaged woman right in front of her, her head raised and looking right at her, her accusing eyes piercing. _

_"You left us…" The woman moaned, as her body gave a violent siezure, her chest thrusting outward once, making the woman scream out in agonizing pain. "You left us to die…" She convulsed again, her chest thrusting out as something bulged from below her sternum, Shepard's eyes going wide at the sight. "You left as all alone to die!" The teenager's chest shot out once more, a bloody stain growing on her shirt as a ripping noise was heard from deep in her chest cavity, causing the colonist to howl in agony. The tearing noise continued as the stain grew large, the whole front of her shirt bloody as the shirt poked out again and again, growing larger and more protruding with each thrust. "Why did you leave us?"_

_"I'm… I'm sorry…" Shepard apologized, feeling herself sinking to her knees, the haunting voice one familiar to her, one she had been hearing since she was eight years old. "I'm sorry I was the only one who made it out."_

_The tearing noise grew loud as something burst out of the teenaged woman chest, causing the colonist to give off a deathly shriek of pain as something tore out of her chest, ripping through her shirt to expose itself to the outside world. Unlike normal labor, what came from the woman's chest was nothing that Earth had ever seen, a series of segmented legs slithering out of the bloody gaping wound, forcing it opened wider as the creature forced itself out for birth._

_And from the woman's chest, the facehugger burst forth and shot itself right towards Shepard's face…_

Shepard shot forward from her chair, every one of her senses keyed up and alert as she breathed heavily, panicky, her heart beating at what felt like 200 beats per minute. Her eyes cast themselves about, and found herself still on the APC, sitting in front of the Mobile Tactical Operations Bay. She let off a sigh of relief, a shaky hand going to her face where she had almost felt the creature grip her skull. It had felt so real…

"Bad dream?"

Shepard turned to look at Ripley, who was looking at her with concern. Everyone else in the APC was either asleep or off in their own little world, not privy to Ripley's question. Slowly, Shepard nodded.

"Yeah. Bad dream." She admitted, remembering what Burke had alluded to in Ripley's apartment when she had first met the woman. Waking up nightly, sheets soaked in sweat. What did Ripley dream of? Shepard would never ask. Just like Ripley wasn't asking now. Everyone dealt with their own fears in their own ways, that was their right.

"_Uh… Lieutenant?_"

"What is it, Chief?" Shepard asked, getting back onto the comms.

"_The _Sulaco_… it's gone._"

* * *

A/N: Oh, you thought that was it?

First off, thanks to my first pair of reviewers, **Fire of the Void** and **Ordo Rolanberry**! Positive feedback is always a plus. Two Paragon points for you!

The Chapter title, _Veni, Vidi, Vici,_ is Latin, and a quote from ole' Julius himself. It translates to, "I came, I saw, I conquered."

AFI (The American Film Institute) puts Ellen Ripley as #8 on the all-time Heroes list for Aliens, while the Alien itself makes #14 on the all-time Villains list for Alien (#1). I know I've kinda shredded the Ripley character and the Hicks character here with Shepard, but I have plans to bring them up in the limelight.

"_You are one ugly motherfucker…_" The Arnold, 1987.

Okay, for you Aliens purists, I did change the Sub-Level 3 attack. Shepard isn't Gorman. Perhaps green, but not an idiot. And everyone survived the initial encounter, mostly because everyone had bullets for their rifles. In the original screenplay, more of the Marines were to survive (Dietrich and Apone were to make it out, and one of the Smart Guns was to survive, too). Also, the rounds weren't taken, and Gorman wasn't to be knocked out, though he was still a fumbling idiot. Also, the tail was to be a stinger of sorts instead of an impaling weapon.


	9. Chapter 9: Like Sitting Ducks

Disclaimer: BioWare owns Mass Effect. 20th Century Fox owns the _Alien_ franchise.

**Hovering Above LV 426, November 16, 2176**

"What do you mean… the _Sulaco_ is gone?" 2nd Lieutenant Jane Shepard asked the radio calmly, feeling her emotions drop away as the UD-4 _Cheyenne_ sat above the exosphere of the moon LV 426, hovering on the verge of space. Gunnery Sergeant Al Apone was standing beside her now, having still been awake to hear the pilot's words, as was Carter Burke. Both were looking at her, their faces alarmed by what they had heard.

"_Ma'am, the damn ship is gone_." Warrant Officer Colette Ferro reiterated, her tone apologetic. "_I don't know where the hell it went, but it's nowhere in the vicinity of LV 426, either of the other two moons, or the planet Calpamos. No buoy, no signal interceptor, and certainly no damn sign when they'll be back._"

"Any other vessels in the area?" Shepard had to ask. Perhaps something came by and the SSV _Sulaco_ had to leave station. It wasn't unreasonable.

"_The _Cheyenne_ ain't exactly a Navy ship, ma'am."_ Ferro reminded her. "_We've got limited radar and LADAR capabilities, good for about .1 AU. Nothing on screen._"

"Shit." Shepard felt fumbled, lost and confused. What they hell were they suppose to do if their ride went MIA? She started considering options. "How space-worthy is the UD-4 and the M577? Can we sustain ourselves out here?"

"_Yes… in theory._" The Warrant Officer replied. "_But we've got next to no rations and no facilities. We're basically like sitting ducks out here._"

"Any contact through a communications relay? Can we broadcast for help?" Shepard shot off, curious. "Emergency beacon? Distress signal?"

"_Short range, ma'am. Again, about .1 AU._" Ferro answered. "_We're a ship-to-surface vessel. We won't even make a trip to the Relay._"

"Any other colonies out here, Burke?" Shepard turned to the mid-level executive. "Weyland-Yutani or otherwise? Outpost, mining site, survey team, dig camp?"

"Nothing." Burke replied, his hands spread out in an apology. "LV 426 was the only one of worth with its heavier elements and access to Calpamos' Helium-3. There use to be a He-3 Processing Station here, but it suffered some sort of accident and the Corporation was forced to abandon it several years back. They never replaced it with another one."

"Damn it." Shepard swore under her breath, unable to believe her luck. "You're telling me that the only place we can go is to Hadley's Hope? There isn't another anything in all of LV 426?" She watched as the bureaucrat shook his head slowly, his face dejected. "Fuck. _Fuck_!" Shepard slammed her fist into the table of the Mobile Tactical Operations Bay, her hand aching from her clenched fist and the strike on the metal table. "Ferro? How much Helium-3 fuel do we have on the _Cheyenne_? If we had to bug out quick?"

"_Four hours, tops._" The Warrant Officer replied. "_We'll need a minimum of twenty minutes to break orbit, and we'll be stuck with docking thrusters._"

"What'cha thinking, El-Tee?" Apone asked quietly as Shepard looked at the blackened screens of the TacOps board. Not that she was seeing them; instead, she was thinking of the schematics she had seen of the colony, and every other piece of intel she had encountered.

"We're going to have to go back to Hadley's Hope. Which does not please me at all." Shepard explained. "But the colony's got a long-range communication terminal. Harper was saying how Weyland-Yutani was trying to contact the colony, but wasn't getting a reply. We get that up, we've got a phone, and we make the call."

"I sense a 'but' in this…" Burke murmured.

"It does require us going back into the complex and holding out like a bunch of sitting ducks." Shepard admitted, her voice disgusted. "It's got food, water, sleeping quarters… and a bunch of fucking bugs. We go in, we repair the barricades and improve them, and take every piece of equipment off the GRZLY and the _Cheyenne_ that goes boom, and we build ourselves a defensive position. The garage is right next to the Command Control Center, so we can park the APC there, and have Ferro posted away from the colony. Or, better yet, have her fly the _Cheyenne_ right into the garage, and leave the APC as a life pod. If shit gets too hairy, we fly out and just station ourselves somewhere, and load the GRZLY with food and water. Long enough to hold out for a few days, even if that means sitting out in space waiting for our taxi. It's… the best I got." Shepard admitted.

"It's what's got to happen, and I can't think of anything else that might work." Apone admitted. "I'll work out the defenses if you get on the horn and call our rescue. We've got firepower on the GRZLY that'll give us a better chance than the colonists. We've got better equipment, too; we can build better barricades, and set some turrets on them."

"Good. And Apone? Get me an accurate kill count from the men." Shepard replied, looking to the Gunny. "There were seven hundred and forty-three colonists in the complex, so that means at least seven hundred and forty-three bugs. Find out how many we killed, and we've got an idea how many more we'll be facing. A real number is a lot better than a question mark."

"Agreed." Apone replied, nodding.

"Ferro? Take us back to Hadley's Hope." Shepard told the Warrant Officer. "If we're going to be sitting ducks, then we're going to be well-defended, entrenched sitting ducks covered by guns and explosives."

"_Aye, aye, ma'am._"

* * *

2nd Lieutenant Jane Shepard found herself in the last place she wanted to be; in the Ops Center of Hadley's Hope. Warrant Officer Colette Ferro had gotten the UD-4 _Cheyenne_ into the garage, and the Marines, having been told what was going on, had quickly secured the garage from any possible breaches, and were now unloading all the equipment from the APC and the UD-4, setting up defensive positions at two separate junctions before scouting out the rest of the colony complex for rations and equipment. Gunnery Sergeant Al Apone was in his prime with the detail, having fought against the Turians during the First Contact War in Shanxi, organizing patrols and sweeps while getting others to search and recover anything useful to bring back. Their defensive position so far consisted of the Ops Center, the Med Lab, the Garage, and a few rooms for quarters. Everything else was being locked down, barricaded, or buried as needed. It was going to take some time, but with PFC Hudson marking spots on the complex schematic on best possible defensive positions and possible entrance points, the Marines of the 343 Mobile Infantry were turning the complex into a highly-evolved kill zone in their favor.

"Mr. Burke?" Shepard called out, getting the mid-level executive's attention. "Download any and all logs, files, reports, and vid captures off the server for our personal use. I want you, Hudson, and Bishop to study how the bugs got in here so we know how best to prevent it. Any other intelligence is secondary, but don't be afraid to call out anything useful." The three men in the Ops Center nodded, each at a terminal, working diligently. "Ripley? Go ahead and report to Chief Ferro, and have her going over the basics of flying the UD-4 with you. You use to be a Flight Lieutenant, and I've been told that the instrumentation is similar to the old VTOL birds back in your day. Two pilots are better than one. I'll have Corporal Dietrich keep an eye on Newt while you do so." The woman nodded, obviously seeing the logic in Shepard's reasoning; if something happened to Chief Ferro, however unlikely, they wouldn't be able to fly away. "Petty Officer Spunkmeyer? As soon as I'm off the horn with Alliance Brass? You'll have TOC duties for the first shift. I'll work a rotation of duties, patrols, and downtime as soon as I'm done crying for help. Oh! And make sure the coffee pot _never_ runs out." The Crew Chief of the _Cheyenne_ smiled at that, and saluted.

Shepard, sitting at the colony director's chair, opens up that main work station of the colony, Burke having given her his access code to unlock almost all the features for the station, being a Weyland-Yutani executive-level employee. With the director's work station, she found that she had almost unprecedented levels of access to the colony; power, camera footage, heat, security cycles, lock down, and the ability to communicate to someone else outside the system. She had already powered every interior light inside the complex to make it easier for her Marines to work, and to eliminate any shadow and possible hiding place within the complex. Along with that, Shepard had also turned on the camera's motion trackers, bringing up highlighted squares of movements on the security feed upon the main monitor so that anyone in the Command Control Center could theoretically watch over the colony complex from there. Most every working door had already put into lockdown status, with the work station being the only means to access the doors save destroying them, with the exception of the small portion the 343 were using as their bastion.

It still needed work, but for the moment, they were safe.

"Setting up long-range communications through the relay communicator." Shepard called out, imputing on the haptic keyboard her desires, the station's VI logging her in. "_Alliance Command, Arcturus Station. Return receipt, 2nd Lieutenant Shepard, Jane, SAMC. Location, Hadley's Hope, LV 426, Zeta Reticuli System. Emergency Protocol, codeword: Broken Sword. Request immediate exfil/extraction, transportation AWOL/MIA._" The Ops Center went quiet as Shepard used a codeword used only once before in all of the history of the Alliance; the loss of a colony due to enemy action. Shepard tried not to think herself as General Williams, but the comparison had her heart wrung inside her chest as the message was sent to the colony's communications array, tight-beamed to the communications relay of the Zeta Reticuli System, and shot through at the same speed as a ship, minus the discharge and refuel times. "Message sent. Estimated time of message being received?" Shepard looked at the work station's haptic monitor, where the VI gave her an estimation. "Three… fucking… hours."

"Three fucking hours?" Hudson turned from his station, his jaw dropped open. "And another three hours for it to come back? That's great! That's just fucking great, man!" The PFC lamented, his face manic, panicking.

"Hudson!" Shepard snapped, making the squad's technician look at her, his eyes widened with fear and surprise. "We've got nine Marines, three Navy, four civilians, more guns than we've got hands, and a position that gets stronger and better with every passing minute. We're better trained and better equipped than the colonists ever were, and we have the means to ride this out. You understand me, Marine?" The man gulped and nodded his head, obviously fighting back his own fear. "Bill?" Using his first name had a strange reaction from the man, making him look to her almost hopefully. "By the time we get a reply, a ship will either be underway, or finishing loading up and casting off. All we need to do is outlast the bugs for, at most, twenty-four hours. The girl did that for some fifteen days by herself without any training. By the time a ship gets here, we'll probably be barbecuing a good majority of the bugs and throwing a kegger."

"Fuckin' A, El-Tee." Hudson couldn't help but smile. "Throw in some hot dogs and some marshmallows, too." The return of the PFC's sense of humor meant he was back on track. Shepard couldn't help but notice how young he looked; her age? Younger? Full of bravado, but in all reality probably just a scared kid fighting back his fear with humor and puffed-up pride. She couldn't blame him.

"Good. Keep searching that colony database, Hudson, and find us anything we can use to button us up better. If anyone needs me, I'll be giving Apone and the rest a hand. Spunk? You're on the conn."

* * *

Repairs and set up were slow but steady as the Marines of the 343 Mobile Infantry worked in teams, setting everything up that they needed to survive the ordeal that killed the colonists of Hadley's Hope. 2nd Lieutenant Jane Shepard had added her hands to the effort, helping either bringing equipment to where it was needed, holding something up so it could be welded on or slathered with Omnigel, or just plain doing some grunt work. Everyone had been up and running ever since mid-day before on the SSV _Sulaco_, and the past 16 hours had felt more like three-days running. Still, progress was made, and the bitching and groaning was good-natured; none of the Marines were frayed from the long hours, as all knew that every ounce of effort was needed on their part. Shepard noted that adding herself to the defenses, getting her hands dirty, had the Marines' spirits up; seeing an Officer getting into the shit with them most likely had them feel like not only did she care, but she didn't think herself too good to work alongside them. Currently, she was wrenching several bolts into place on a piece of metal planking, creating a wall that spanned the stairwell that led from deeper into the colony complex into the second level. Gunnery Sergeant Apone wanted the bugs to remain on the first floor, to keep them from trying to find other ways into their perimeter. On the other side of the metal wall was some heavy machinery that was pushed down the stairs, jammed in with no gaps large enough for a human to fit a hand through.

What they created was a funnel.

Ninety percent of the complex was shut off, the main corridor being the only access to their defensive position. The maintenance corridor that Hudson had checked on the schematics earlier had been shut with a pressure door, and protected by no less than two UA-571-C 'Zeus' Automated Sentry Turrets with VI-driven Smart Trackers. The Zeus was really just a bigger, beefier version of the Marshal, known as an M30 Hornet, set on a tripod with a power source and a VI tracker not too different from the Omnitool version the Marines used. It came with a remote console, could be accessed by Omnitool, set up for manual, or just activated for auto-detect-and-fire and set up as a perimeter defense gun. Shepard had theorized that the maintenance corridor that ran underground from the atmospheric plant to the colony complex was the most likely point of access for the bugs; the way they moved along the walls and had constructed the tunnel seemed to suggest that they were subterranean creatures of some sort. The corridor had obviously been constructed for workers to avoid the worst of the weather conditions of LV 426 to move back and forth to the industrial complex without fear of injuring themselves outside, and a dark sheltered tunnel seemed the perfect access point for the bugs. Locking it down and guarding it with the Auto-Turrets had been first priority. The second line of defense, in case the turrets failed in the maintenance corridor or the bugs came over land, was the complex itself. Shepard had locked down all the exterior doors for the colony complex save one; the smallest one of the West Gate. Not much larger than a man, it was the entrance closest to the atmospheric station. Every other access had been locked down or barricaded to have the creature go in one direction; funneled down the main corridor into the waiting sights of no less than four Zeus's. Shepard wasn't sure what the intelligence level of the aliens were, but they didn't seem to be tool-making or plan-making intelligent based on how they were only interested in attacking the Marines in droves as oppose to reconnoitering and finding ways to exploit what was their natural environment. The aliens had home field advantage in the industrial complex, and had failed to exploit it. Now the Marines were on the defensive, and were funneling the bugs into a death trap. If they came through the maintenance corridor, they would be chopped to pieces. If they came through the West Gate, they would be chopped to pieces.

Shepard estimated that there were approximately six hundred of the creatures left, based off the kill counts the other Marines had gotten. Six hundred against six Zeus's weren't bad odds.

Another line of defense, this one laughable at best, were the security mechs. Called the A/P 329-S 'LOKI', the drone was a humanoid looking 'droid with a simple VI, complete with a security suite and firearms available. They were fairly standard for colonial defense where manpower might be in short supply, and Shepard had been surprised to see that Hadley's Hope still had all their LOKI mechs; they had never been deployed. Perhaps it had been too late for the members of the last stand to use them, or perhaps they hadn't the authorization, but either way the security mechs had never gone on-line. Now two-thirds patrolled the second and third floors of the complex, permanently sealed off, armed with M-96 Mattock Rifles, in case the bugs somehow got clever and found a way upstairs. The first floor was sealed off from the second and third, but it didn't hurt the Marines to have something up there to draw the bugs' attention. The final one-third of them manned the final barricade, in front of a steel wall backed by scrap metal and heavy machinery, sealed off. If the bugs somehow got through the four Zeus', then they would have to contend with twenty LOKI mechs armed with Mattock Rifles, locked into position and programmed to shoot anything that didn't have a human profile.

The last line of defense were the Marines themselves.

"That's the last of it." Shepard commented, a few hours after she had pitched into the work, wiping the sweat off her brow as she looked at the final barricade, where she and Private Drake had held up a heavy metal desk that was thick enough to stop a round while while Private Crowe welded it into place. The barricade was at least three feet thick of reinforced plating, scraps, contraptions, and other debris they could find while the rest of them were cataloging the supplies they had gathered from the colony complex, half of them looting while the other half guarded over them with trackers and M7 Lancers. Setting up the defenses had been rather arduous, but it had paid off; they were sealed in, their only means of escape the garage, whose thick metal door was three feet of iridium-enforced steel designed to take even small orbital strikes. "All we need is a deck of cards."

"Or a shower. You reek, Drake." Crowe waved his hand in front of his nose, wrinkling it up for effect. Drake growled at him as Shepard chuckled. They all needed showers. The Marines building up the barricades had dumped off their armor after the Zeus' had been activated and the LOKI set up and programmed. Now they were all wearing their standard-issue black Underarmor t-shirts and Alliance Blue pants, their Onyx boots still on their feet as it was the only available footwear they had. None of them had a spare change of clothes, though Frost and Wierzbowski had raided some of the colonists' rooms for spare duds. Shepard hoped she wouldn't get stuck wearing some cast-off frilly dress.

"You two? Go in the mess hall, grab some grub, and get in a power nap." Shepard ordered the two Privates, who lazily saluted her. She turned back to the metal-reinforced wall they had just spent the past forty-five minutes welding and Omnigel'ing together, and rapped it with her fist. _For what it's worth…_ she thought to herself, smiling.

"El-Tee?" Corporal Hicks came up, dressed in his Onyx Armor, his Lancer stowed upon his back. He and Private Wierzbowski had volunteered for the first guard shift of two hours, a rotation where two would be armed and armored in case the alarm went off in the Ops Center. Shepard had set Burke, Ripley, Bishop, Spunkmeyer and Ferro for TOC guard, leaving the Marines to do guard duty while someone watched the monitors and phone. "Bishop wants to see you in the Med Lab. Says there's something you need to see." He finished the message by handing her an unopened bottle of water.

"Thanks, Hicks." Shepard took the water gratefully, opening the cap and taking a healthy swig. "Gods, that's good." She then poured a little bit on her hand, stuck the bottle between her knees, and proceeded to scrub her face with the cool liquid for a quick clean-up. "Showers up and open?"

"Only if you want to listen to Frost sing and Hudson complain about it." Hicks smiled, and Shepard snorted at that. "I think Dietrich's got it next, so you can buddy it up with her."

"Shower." Shepard pretended to drool, making the Corporal laugh. "Catch you in a few, Hicks. Don't take over the moon without me."

"Wouldn't dream of it, El-Tee." The way he smiled at her, the easy-going grin and the relaxed manner he just talked to her in an informal setting… shit, seemed like the Corporal was taking a shine to her. It was kind of touching, really; Hicks was a rugged-sort of handsome, and didn't act childish like most of the Marines. As she walked away from the barricade, she saw from the corner of her eye that he followed her with his eyes, undoubtedly enjoying the view. She smiled to where he could see it as she decided to put a little more flair in her step, giving her hips a little more sway as she walked away, giving him something a little bit more to look upon.

_Get ahold of yourself_, Shepard berated herself a little bit as she turned the corner and walked towards the Med Lab. _You're stressed and exhausted; don't let the hormones go do your thinking for you._

"Bishop, you in here?" Shepard asked as she entered into the Med Lab, looking around the room for the Alliance Science Officer. She really hadn't spent that much time in here, thankfully, since when they first found it. There really hadn't been any need. She found Lance Bishop near the back, where the quarantine room was kept, and she walked back towards it, seeing him talking to Burke. She was obviously walking into a conversation already going, and saw that both men seemed to be talking fast to one another, their body language aggravated, with lots of hand movements to punctuate their words. An argument.

"Look, Lance. I have no idea, okay?" Carter Burke said as Shepard got within earshot, his tone exasperated, as if he had been repeating himself, and was tired of it. "You saw the footage. I respect your conclusions, but I think they're wrong. And we don't need to be going to Ripley, telling her this."

"Telling her what?" Shepard immersed herself, for better or worse. Both Bishop and Burke looked at her, a little shocked, obviously having missed her coming in. "What's going on?"

"Look." Bishop pointed toward the tables where the biological containment canisters sat, the facehuggers inside. Shepard saw them, and was surprised to see that some of them weren't there. In fact, all the living specimens were gone!

"What the hell!" Shepard automatically reached for her sidearm that wasn't there, her M3 Predator still clipped to her armor in the Ops Center. "Oh fuck! Do not tell me they escaped!"

"They didn't." Bishop held up his hands in a calming gesture. "As bad as that possibility is, the reality is worse, Shepard. They aren't missing.

"They were taken."

* * *

"Who in their right fucking Gods-damned mind swiped the facehuggers?" 2nd Lieutenant Jane Shepard asked Alliance Science Officer Lance Bishop, ready to explode. She wasn't taking the news well; who would? Just one of those things could kill off a crew with its bug-spawn. Ten of them could easily wipe out a small colony.

"The _Sulaco_." Bishop replied, and Shepard felt those words slowly sink in as her stomach did a lazy flip-flop in her belly. "Upon reviewing the colony's logs, I noticed that someone arrived in the complex after we had left to rescue the colonists. I looked into the security footage, and found that the _Sulaco's_ second UD-4 was piloted here, in which a team went into the complex after we had secured it, retrieved the specimens, and left." Shepard felt her mouth drop open at the news. "I can only assume that is what happen with the _Sulaco_; they left after the specimens were secured."

"Wait!" Shepard grabbed at the bridge of her nose, pinching it in the hopes of trying to stave off the growing headache. "That would have to mean that they knew that there was something here to find. Something to recover."

"That's… where I come in." Burke replied, his voice mollified. "I looked up some of the logs, and I found a report where someone had been sent to a location about fifty klicks southeast of here, and they had discovered something. Now this log was early November 1st, so I don't know who sent them out there, but the report does indicate that a wildcat team was sent on purpose to this location." The bureaucrat's face fell slightly, looking a bit mortified. "Shepard… it's the same coordinates that Ripley gave to Weyland-Yutani when we recovered her some nine weeks ago."

"You're saying that the Corporation that sent us here… sent some poor scavengers to find Ripley's alien ship?" Shepard asked, her eyes wide. "What? Did they not believe her?"

"I think they did, Shepard." The mid-level executive replied, sighing. "I think what happened here was exactly what Weyland-Yutani was hoping for." Shepard was shocked, and she found that she didn't have the words to reply. All of this… was some elaborate experiment and retrieval mission where she and her platoon were left to die? "It… gets worse."

"Of course it does."

"Remember the Science Lab Director Harper told us about?" Burke asked, and Shepard grunted, vaguely remembering some of the details. "I went looking for it in the schematics, to see if anyone survived. Took me a while to find it because I was looking for a self-sufficient, self-contained lab, right?

"We're standing in it."

"I would hardly call this either 'self-sufficient' or 'self-contained'…" Shepard began, and then what Burke was telling finally dawned on her. "Oh. Oh… shit. They were experimenting with the Godsdamn things right here, weren't they?"

"Yes." Burke replied, his voice even more miserable. "And it wasn't just a team of a few Asari, Turians, or Salarians. Shepard, they were importing mercs into Hadley's Hope. Mercs that can't be found anywhere."

"You mean they were knocked-up with alien babies. Fucking perfect." Shepard snorted, but saw the look that Burke and Bishop were passing to one another. "They were human mercs, right?"

"No." Both men answered, and the horror growing in Shepard's gullet was fast and fearsome.

"No… no-no-no." Shepard found a nearby seat to collapse into; how could things get even worse. "We're expecting some seven hundred and forty-three bugs because there were seven hundred and forty-three colonists in the atmospheric processing station. You're telling me there's more?"

"It looks like they imported some one hundred and seventy mercenaries through undisclosed means, somewhere off-site." Bishop answered, his voice thick. "We think there's a part of this complex that exists that isn't on the schematics for illegal research for Weyland-Yutani."

"But the Director said it was Eldfell-Ashland…" Shepard began, in which both men shook their head together, indicating that it had been a lie. "Okay, so add a hundred and seventy to the total of bugs. That's not the worst thing possible."

"The problem is that Weyland-Yutani already knew what a xenomorph born from a human would look like and what it could do." Burke told her, taking a seat to explain it to her. "Ripley's incident was the first, but it wasn't the last. There was another incident a bunch of years back on a station that also got destroyed. It supposedly held several xenomorphs in which the survivor destroyed the station to prevent them from getting off, escaping herself in the process."

"Good for her." Shepard replied. "So these mercs from other species were introduced to facehuggers? To what purpose?"

"To see what kind of chicken the egg would hatch." Bishop handed her a datapad that had the list of the mercenaries brought; numbers and by species. Shepard's eyes grew alarmed as she read them.

"Asari… Turian… Drell… Salarian… Batarian… Hanar… Elcor… Quarian… fucking _Krogan_?" She couldn't believe what she was reading. Who the fuck hired two dozen Krogan? They practically covered every sapient species in the galaxy! The only thing that was missing were the Volus and the Vorcha."And these bugs aren't like the bugs we faced?"

"No." Bishop replied, and handed her another datapad. "This picture is of a Turian-born xenomorph, kept on a computer log on a separate server found in this Med Lab." Shepard took the pad, and looked at it. She could feel herself pale as she looked upon the creature that somewhat resembled that first bug, but there were noticeable differences. Taller. Thicker of body. Three taloned fingers instead of five. Two vertical mandibles. An elongated head that had something akin to a back crown that looked like a Turian fringe along its curved skull. "The next page shows an Asari-type." Shepard swiped the pad with her finger, and saw the bug. A skull that had longitudinal ridges like a crest. A little smaller than the human-type. A notation under the picture warning that biotic restraints and drugs were necessary. The next page was a Salarian-version. A Quarian. Batarian. Drell… Hanar… Elcor… Krogan…

"_Fuck_!" Shepard threw the datapad across the Med Lab, breaking it as it smashed into the wall. cradling her face in her hands, the anger and fear escalating into lividity and terror. Someone bred humans into aliens? Beyond fucking disgusting. Someone took some of the more powerful species in the galaxy and did the same thing? Not only were their repercussions with the parent race, like a declaration of war, but the damn extra-species bugs would be so much worse to handle. How big was an Elcor bug? What would a Krogan bug do? She almost didn't want to know. Shepard fought to calm herself before speaking again. "Bishop? Please look through the research and collate for me what measures I need to know in order for us to defend ourselves, and what I can expect. And the Godsdamn pictures." She looked up to the Alliance Science Officer, who looked at her with understanding eyes. "This mission just got a lot more complicated."

She felt like a sitting duck in the middle of hell.

* * *

2nd Lieutenant Jane Shepard sat in the colony director's chair, looking at the work station there, the one that gave full access. She kept the priority security clearance off, so that anyone could theoretically could come in and tamper with the complex. Shepard wasn't worried about someone de-activating the lockdown or anything, but she figured that the reason the LOKI mechs were never used was because Colonial Director Spencer Lydecker wasn't there to put in his password for the survivors. Who knew if those last defenders would have made it or not with sixty LOKI mech on their side. Still, at least the Marines had them.

Shepard took another sip of coffee, and spun lazily in the chair.

It had been over seven hours since Shepard had sent out the distress signal, over seven hours since they begun fortifying what the Marines now dubbed 'the Alamo'. She didn't like the reference; not one of the United States Americans survived defending it from the Central American Mexicans, dying to the last man. But the nickname gave them something to be proud of, and already single silver stars were being graffiti'ed upon the walls of their improvised bunker, and Shepard let them have their fun. Whatever kept their spirits up wasn't a bad thing at all. She didn't want to tell them about the discovery of the extraspecies bugs, but she was going to have to, sooner or later. All she was waiting for was a reply back from Alliance Command.

It was already well over an hour later.

Communication was a valuable commodity in the military; without it, everything failed. Even the Corporations of the Alliance knew this, and hadn't skimped on the communication relays for the Alliance, since information was money, and the Corporations were all about the money. In the almost two decades since the FCW, the Alliance Communications Command had gone from practically the modern version of teletype to going round-for-round with the Turian Hierarchy's in sophistication and clarity. Lag was always an issue, of course; until a signal hit a relay, it could only travel at light speed, and in a system that could be as many as four hours if there was a Relay there, and days if one happened to be in a completely different system. If anyone invented a way to send even the shortest of wavelengths at FTL, they would die and be buried in a coffin made of pure Element Zero, they would be so stinking, filthy rich. So when Shepard had sat at the colony director's chair approximately five minutes before the earliest reply possible, she had been ready to receive.

That was about eighty minutes ago.

Military communication protocol dictated according to the Directorate of the Alliance pamphlet 600-60, that any communications received, no matter how garbled or unintelligibly, must be returned so at least the sender knew that the message was received, if not acknowledged. The colony transmitter was more than powerful enough to send out; hell, Director Harper had mentioned how Weyland-Yutani had tried reaching out without success. Of course, the CIO of WTC was evidently a fucking scumbag who was into some pretty sick shit, so who knew? But Lance Bishop had confirmed that the dish was more than powerful enough to break through even the worst of LV 426's weather, was aligned correctly with the Relay, and was transmitting out successfully.

Nothing had come back; not good.

Shepard spun in the chair again.

"You keep doing that, you'll unscrew the chair and fall over." Ellen Ripley said as she came by, pouring two cups of coffee, handing one to Shepard. Not that she needed more coffee; she hadn't slept yet.

"Thanks, Ripper." That had the woman look at her oddly. Shepard had to explain. "Back when we were buttoning this place up, I was helping Drake and Vasquez put some defenses up. All those two talked about was you." That had Ripley a little surprised, indicated by the look on her face. "They couldn't believe you tussled with a bug, and I quote, '_killed the fucking thing with your bare hands_'." Ripley smiled and shook her head, taking a sip of coffee. "Called you Ripper. And don't knock it; a Marine gives you props for a body count, you can take it to the bank that it was probably pretty awesome. Besides, it was my mom's callsign; Amanda 'Ripper' Shepard."

"You're mom's a pilot?" Ripley asked, curious.

"Alliance Navy fighter pilot, and a Hero of Shanxi back during the First Contact War." Shepard replied, a smile spreading over her lips. "I still got a shadow box filled with all her awards, including her Star of Terra. Our highest award." Ripley nodded with the explanation, not getting it at first. "Dad's was 'Widowmaker'. He was a Navy fighter pilot, too."

"How do they feel about you being a Marine?" Ripley asked, sipping her coffee. "Back in… well, what was America, sailors and Marines usually gave each other shit."

"Still true." Shepard smiled, but there was no joy in it. "I don't know how they would feel about my service, they weren't alive when I went to Annapolis. Dad died in the FCW back in '57 when I was three. Never really knew him save from photos and awards." Ripley grimaced, obviously not enjoying that she had brought bad memories up. "Mom died a few years later on the SSV _Iwo Jima_, during a pirate attack, when I was eight." She closed her eyes, remember. "I was there for that… I was the only one to make it out."

"Damn." Ripley breathed out. "Sorry to bring that up."

"I… actually can kind of relate to you." Shepard admitted. "Sole survivor of a ship, and I was stuck in a lifepod drifting in space for five days with very little in the way of rations. All I had was a viewport of space and stars to keep me company. To this very day, I still can't look out a viewport without that fear coming back." She shivered slightly. "When I first met you, I pegged you for what you were; suffering survivor's guilt. I had it for years, Ellen, and sometimes it still comes back and bites me in the ass. All those questions… 'why me?' Don't you ever believe them. I read what you did. You are one badass bitch, and don't let anyone tell you different."

"I… had a little girl." Ripley spoke quietly, looking at the coffee mug in her hands. "Amanda, though she preferred Amy… she was nine when I left, and I promised that I'd be there for her tenth birthday." The woman squeezed her eyes shut, obviously fighting tears. She composed herself, wiping a thumb just under her left eye. "Burke had a file for her, her life, her… death, but I wasn't strong enough to look at it then. I felt like I abandoned her."

"Ellen, you didn't." Shepard replied softly, looking the woman in the eye. "Take it from a kid who lost both her parents in space. Maybe she felt that way at first, but I doubt that feeling lasted long. It's not like you just up'ed and left her to make some other family or relive your teenage years. You went to space, and shit happened. Space is fucking dangerous. For all you know, she went out looking for you. Take my advice… look at her file. It sucks when all you've got of your dad is his eyes, hair, and an electronic data file, but I wouldn't give those things up for anything for a man I never knew."

"Your dad was a coppertop?" Ripley asked, bemused, obviously teasing her. Shepard groaned at that; why did everyone make fun of redheads? "Jane? Thank you. It's nice just to… talk it out. Especially with someone who can relate a little with what I've been through."

"Well, I hope I look that good when I'm your age." Shepard couldn't help herself, making Ripley groan. She couldn't help herself, Shepard began to laugh, and Ripley added her own to it. It felt good to laugh, and the stress began to bleed a little. When was the last time Shepard just had… girl talk? Perhaps it was like Ripley said; it was nice having someone who could relate a little. The work station behind her chimed, and Shepard turned around and saw in a large flashing text box: MESSAGE RECEIVED.

"About Godsdamned time." She muttered as she accessed the file, and found that the transmission had finally been returned. Shepard opened up the reply.

2ND LIEUTENANT SHEPARD, JANE, SAMC. LOCATION, HADLEY'S HOPE, PV 426, ZETA RETICULI SYSTEM RETURN RECEIPT, CORPORATE COMMAND, ARCTURUS STATION.

"What the hell…" Shepard breathed in, seeing the text. _Corporate Command_? She sent the transmission to _Alliance Command_!

REQUEST DENIED. SIGNED HARPER, J. CIO WEYLAND-YUTANI. ACKNOWLEDGE? Y/N

"Oh… _fuck_…"

* * *

A/N: Calpamos is the name of the planet that LV 426/Acheron revolves around. It is a gas giant.

An AU, or Astronomical Unit, is a unit of measure in space, equalling 93 million miles, or the distance from the Sun to Earth. It is what is used when something is shorter than a light year, but you don't want to write down a couple billion kilometers or so. From the Sun to Pluto (and thus, the Charon Relay) is 39.5 AU on average. A light year is 63,241 AU's. To quote Douglas Adams, space is big… really big.

The UA-571-C is the designation of the sentry gun used in Aliens, and the gun model was an M30. It was, in reality, like the Smart Gun; a German MG42 adapted to look futuristic. The moniker 'Zeus' is of my own making.

I mention that the garage is made of iridium-reinforced steel. Iridium is a heavy metal of the platinum series, quite rare on earth, and extremely durable. Its high density, hardness, resistance to elements, very high melting point, and resistance to corrosives (acids). There will be more to this later on in the story.

Burke here describes that 'someone' sent the Jorden's to the Space Jockey's ship, while in the movie, it was him. This will be explained later why it wasn't Burke in the story.

Xenomorphs are highly adaptive, and we shall see later on. I might include a nice descriptive video on how a Hanar and a facehugger handle 'date night'. Eww.

Directorate of the Alliance pamphlet 600-60 is an inside joke; Department of the Army (DA) 600-60 is a pamphlet covering, I kid you not, 'A Guide For Protocol And Etiquette For Official Entertainment'.

'_For all you know, she went looking for you…_" Yes, Shepard, Amanda 'Amy' Ripley-McClaren did indeed go looking for her mother in the recently released game Alien: Isolation.

This impeding sense of doom brought to you by Weyland-Yutani. Weyland-Yutani… Building Better Worlds…


	10. 10: The Siege Of Hadley's Hope (Part I)

Disclaimer: BioWare owns Mass Effect. 20th Century Fox owns the _Alien_ franchise.

**LV 426, November 16, 2176**

_The memory came._

_Janey Shepard laid in the life pod, the viewport in front of her face giving her an un-obstructive view of outside space, the stars like so many sparkling jewels against the endless black. There was no other sound except for the life pod's OxRecycler, a slight hissing noise that was slowly maddening. The life pod itself had little of the way of anything; some ration bars, powdered packets of water, and a bilge tube for elimination of wastes. There was no lighting in the interior, not even a haptic display or a hard screen read out. It was simply a vertical couch meant for one person to stay in with little room for movement, and the life pod itself to sustain the survivors' life for a week._

_The view was maddening._

_Outside, through the viewport that encompassed her only access to anything, Janey could see the destruction that was once the SSV _Iwo Jima_, an Alliance Frigate she had been traveling on. Her mother, Commander Amanda 'Ripper' Shepard, was transferring to the SSV _Shasta_ as its newest XO. Both mother and daughter had been happy with the assignment, as the _Shasta_ was a dreadnaught. Janey had been looking forward to being on a new ship, a much larger one, with potentially more children to play with. The Captain of the ship, Admiral Peter Lamount, had wanted Commander Shepard on the _Shasta_ as quickly as possible, and tasked the _Iwo Jima_ for a pick-up._

_Then, the pirates had attacked._

_The Alliance Frigate had been doing a core discharge above a gas giant when the vessel had been hit with a broadside, mass-accelerated weapons fire raking the ship, vulnerable and defenseless as it had its discharge tether aligned with the gas giants' magnetosphere. The first salvo had crippled the ship, the pirates having hid themselves behind one of the planet's many moons, waiting for a target of opportunity. With its shields down for the discharge process, and the tether keeping the frigate from immediately flying away or risk shorting out the entire navigational system, as well as the core, the men and women in Blue did their best to limp away from a losing battle. Janey had been terrified as her mother put her in a hard suit and ushered her into a life pod, making her promise to stay there until the battle was over. Janey had done as her mother asked, the battle going on for several minutes as the _Iwo Jima_ tried to retreat._

_Janey had screamed when her life pod ejected a few seconds before the frigate exploded from the inside, its Helium-3 tanks ruptured._

_From her viewport, Janey could see the corpse of the _Iwo Jima_, the frigate cracked in half, pieces of it scattered everywhere in the cosmos, still tumbling in the zero-gravity vacuum. Along with the pieces of the ship were its crew members; those brave men and women who fought a desperate battle, a losing battle. Many of them were in hard suits, and were able to survive in vacuum. The problem was, the ship was destroyed three days before._

_All the survivors had ran out of air long since then._

"_Momma." Janey cried, her fists, pounding into the metal door of the life pod, her forehead against her only window. "Momma! Momma-Momma-Momma!" The girl cried, pounding the door, seeing the dozen or so motionless figures floating in the black, their bodies illuminated by the glow of the nearby gas giant. Janey had desperately tried to find her mother, looking through the viewport, but it was impossible, space was big, and people weren't. She remembered how frantic she had been when she found floating survivors, moving about, trying to control their velocities. She couldn't reach out to them from her metal couch, and all she could do was watch._

_Watch as every single one of them stopped moving several hours later, their suits out of air._

"_I want out of here…" Janey moaned, the confinement getting to her, the lack of light getting to her, the isolation getting to her._

_The view was getting to her._

"_I WANT OUT OF HERE!"_

2nd Lieutenant Jane Shepard awoke with a start, feeling a hand touch her shoulder as she sat straight up in her chair, having laid her head down on the desk in front of her. It took her a second to remember where she was; Hadley's Hope. A look showed her that Ellen Ripley had been the one to awaken her, a concerned look upon her face.

"You were crying out in your sleep." The woman informed her, making Shepard rub her eyes and feel pretty shitty about herself. It sounded so childish, to still have bad dreams and to cry out in her sleep. Then again, Ripley understood; Shepard knew that the woman did so herself, too. "You said your mother's name."

"What time is it?" Shepard asked, looking around at the Ops Center. It was just her and Ripley, probably Ripley's shift. She looked over to see the woman looking at her archaic wristwatch.

"About 0532, Whatever Standard Time." Ripley smiled with a shrug of her shoulders. "You've been asleep for about an hour. You should get to a bed."

"Gee, thanks, mom." Shepard replied snakily, making Ripley snort.

"I'm old enough to be your grandmother. Probably your great-grandmother." The woman replied as she took her seat in front of the work station of the colony director. "No movement so far, no bullets fired, and no bugs seen. Take the good news when you can get it."

"Amen to that." Shepard cracked out a yawn, stretching her arms upward. "Funny, I always thought I'd die in space like my mom and dad did. My grandma, too, come to think of it." She relaxed, sitting back in the chair as she watched Ripley looking at her. "Nope, going to buy it on real estate; every spacer kid's dream, dying in the dirt."

"At least this moon's gotten better since the last time I visited." Ripley commented, looking at the main monitor for a moment. "Before, you had to have a suit on, big bulky contraptions. Hard as hell to walk in. Now? You can walk right outside and enjoy how dismal this place is. I envy your suits now, Jane. Sleek, a helmet that doesn't look like a bubble with a snorkel coming out of it, and it's armored, too." The woman sipped at the coffee in her hands. "Mind me asking how your grandmother died in space?"

"Don't know, actually." Shepard admitted with a shrug. "Mom told me a few weeks before she died. I guess I had brought it up or something, and she told me that I was a third-Gen spacer." Ripley 'hmmm'ed at that. "I guess my mom lost her mother when she was young, and went looking for her. Grandma was some bus driver back when ships were hyperdrive pre-Prothean, and her ship got lost out in the black sometime during the early… '20's, I think?" Her mother had only mentioned it once, and little Janey Shepard had eaten it up. Even as a kid, Janey had dreamed of joining the Alliance like her mother, and hearing of a grandmother who was a space adventure had impressed her. "I think all that was found was a black box. She got some closure, I guess. I don't know, I was eight, and that's not normally the thing you tell your kid, I guess. I only remember it because I thought it was so cool, going on one of those nuclear-powered ships, flying hyperspace. I don't think she ever told me her mother's name, though. Though I _do_ remember meeting one of the other crew member's kids after my mom died, came to give me his condolences. His dad was the ship's captain I guess, and he said that he and Mom use to be friends. What was his name again?" Shepard surprised herself with remembering all that. It had been… fourteen years ago? "Michael! Michael Dallas! He's still around, I think."

"Michael… Dallas?" Ripley asked, her voice going monotone, her eyes going a little wider. "Are you sure about that name?"

"Yes. I remember that he contacted me after OCS, messaged me a congratulations." Shepard replied, only remembering that the content the message had been short but supportive. "Why?" The woman just looked at her oddly, staring at her while her jaw dropped.

"Jane… the captain of my vessel was Tom Dallas." Ripley told her, which Shepard knew that from Ripley's report. "He had a son named Michael Dallas, and you just told me your _mother_ went looking… for her missing mother, lost in space? Lost in 2121?" Shepard felt uneasy at that year, the same year that the _Nostromo_ was lost. And hadn't Pop told her that her mother's callsign was based off her _maiden_ name? She hadn't really thought about it, but the way Ellen was _looking_ at her…

Shepard's mother's name had been Amanda 'Ripper' Ripley when she joined the Alliance, before marrying her father, John Shepard.

"I… I need a minute." Shepard stood up, feeling numb and confused as she walked away from the work station she had been sleeping at, her words tumbling fro her mouth as she walked over to the other side of the Ops Center, her thoughts scattered and disarrayed. _Could it even be possible?_ 'Ripley' wasn't the most common name in English, but there were more than a few out there. The years _seemed_ right, and Shepard distinctly remembered her mother mentioning how her grandmother had been lost in space, but never did mention the ship's name. Shepard probably could find out easily with some research, but never had the will to do so, not until now. Then it occurred to her.

"Ripper? Do you still have that file?" Shepard went back to the woman, walking over to where Ripley sat, obviously mulling things over. "The one that Burke gave you about your daughter?"

"I… yes." Ripley perked up, her attention fully on Shepard. "It's in my flight bag that I brought with me."

"You didn't leave it on the _Sulaco_, did you?" That had the woman laugh.

"That would have been rich, but no." Ripley smiled as she reached underneath the work station, and pulled out a small green bag, not much smaller than a Navy duffel. Ripley rummaged through it for a moment before pulling out a datapad. The woman held in her hands, and Shepard could see the touch-screen display mobile computer shaking a little, Ripley's hands quaking slightly. "I've… I've been fearing to do this." The woman admitted sheepishly, her eyes never leaving the powered-down tablet. "I feared that if I read it, I would feel like a failed mother."

"Now you've got a _good_ reason to read it." Shepard pointed out, gesturing to the datapad. "And you won't be alone, Ripper; I'm here. And if what we think is true about us… then I can tell you that your fears are totally misguided. Because I know _my_ mother thought the world of her own mother, and never blamed her for anything." She gave the woman a smile, and moved beside her as Ripley turned the datapad on, placing her thumb in the middle of the screen to confirm her biometric password. Ripley's thumbprint was accepted as Shepard placed her hands gently on Ripley's shoulders, giving the woman comfort as the datapad sprung to life, and a file was placed in the desktop background, marked 'File on Ripley's daughter'. "Nervous?"

"Extremely." Ripley replied as she double-tapped on the icon, opening up a series of pages, pictures, and Alliance military service records. The first page was simply a digital birth certificate for Amanda Ripley, born June 24, 2111. Shepard tried not to suck in her breath at the sight of Amanda's birthday; coincidentally the same date of birth as her own mother. Mother was named as Ellen Ripley, and father as Alex Ripley. The woman slid her finger across the screen, and the next page was a high school transcript. Amanda had done well in school, graduating with a 3.9 GPA at a High School in southern California, USA… back when there was a United States of America in 2129. Amanda had gone to college at MIT, graduating with a Bachelors' in Engineering. That had Shepard nodding her head; her mother, too, had gone to MIT and had been an Engineer. The next page was an employee record with Weyland-Yutani, where Amanda Ripley had worked as an engineer and a flight officer. There were several locations she worked at, notably in the Zeta Reticuli system, the same system that the _Nostromo_ had been in, back in 2137.

The next page was her Alliance Oath of Commission for the Alliance Navy.

Ensign Amanda 'Ripper' Ripley had entered flight school to become a space fighter pilot in 2149. She passed with top marks, and flew in the Colonial Defense Fleet stationed in Shanxi. The record went to state her many tours of service, her awards, and her date of death; December 23, 2162. There was a Navy Department photo of her in the upper right hand corner, showing a middle-aged woman in Navy Whites, standing at attention, the left breast of her Undress jacket festooned with awards, and a blue ribbon around her neck with a golden disk that contained a relief of Earth in the center; the Star of Terra. The woman in the photo looked serious, as all military photos made the subject do.

The next page was a marriage certificate. To one Ensign John Shepard in 2154. Shepard noted that it was the same year she was born, and looked at the date, and found it to be on the same _day_ she was born; April 11. Her mother had mentioned once that she had gotten married on the labor bed.

The last page was a birth certificate. Jane Catherine Shepard. Daughter of John and Amanda.

The datapad went off, and Ripley gently placed it on the table, and burst into tears. She turned to Shepard, and she clutched at the Lieutenant, burying her face in Shepard's abdomen as she cried, holding onto her tightly. Shepard slid her arms around Ripley, trying to come to terms that _this was her grandmother_, that by some weird quirk of fate, they had been reunited. Ripley cried out her tortured soul, weeks of repressed sadness and misery all coming out at once as Shepard held onto her, letting the woman sob to her hearts' content. Burke came into the Ops Center, looking surprised and confused, and Shepard merely jerked her head towards the door, indicating him that anywhere else was a better place to be. The mid-level executive got the hint and wisely walked away. Ripley finally got control of her grief, and pulled away, wiping her face clean with the sleeve of her workers' overalls, sniffling a little.

"Messed up your spandex shirt. Sorry." Ripley apologized, wiping off the last of her tears.

"I'm not worried about it." Shepard replied with a smile, seeing the tear stains on her belly. "Feel… resolution?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I guess I do." Ellen Ripley smiled, and for the first time, her eyes no longer looked so haunted.

* * *

Breakfast was a lively affair as the Marines filed through the Auto-Cook, a machine that plopped out a lumpy, nutrient-ladened paste that advertised the essentials and taste, but ended up looking like soggy cardboard and tasted like runny scrambled eggs. Thankfully, Privates Frost and Crowe had raided very larder in the colony complex, and had grabbed everything that was food-related, including condiments. Salt, pepper, ketchup, mayonnaise, mustard… at least they had a variety of flavors to mask the runny consistency. The Auto-Cook had been set up in a room that probably had once been some sort of lounge room for the higher-level colonists, but had been converted into a makeshift dining facility, complete with a long table, benches, and an improvised larder for the refrigerated goods. Boxes of canned food, boxed food, dry goods, and bottled drinks lined the walls, and it looked like they would have enough to eat and drink with their current numbers for a good long while. Months, perhaps.

"God. I thought the Navy food was shit." Crowe complained, taking his spoon and getting a helping of slop, and rotating the spoon so the food dribbled off of it like gruel. "El-Tee? Next time we get stuck in a Godforsaken shithole, can we make sure that there's a bar in it? Or at least a cook?"

"Why? You want me to go get you an apron?" 2nd Lieutenant Jane Shepard asked, making several of the Marines snicker, Crowe's face pinching up with the thought. "Don't look at me for cooking expertise. I can operate a microwave… and that's about it."

"We should make a grill." Frost lamented.

"We _should_ make a grill." Hicks jumped on the idea, his voice chipper. "We got enough scrap, and we got some meat in the freezer. Just turn our Omnitool incinerators to 'low' and we can have ourselves some barbecue."

"El-Tee. We got dinner plans." Gunnery Sergeant Apone said with a smile.

"Now we get Chief Ferro to go make a beer run, and we're good." Shepard finished, getting a choir of cheers from the Marines, and a groan from the Navy Warrant Officer in question. "No worries, Colette, that's what men are for; beer is heavy. Have Spunk do the lifting."

"12 oz. arm curls _all_ night long!" Hudson hooted as he shoveled his food into his mouth, eating like a ravenous soul.

"Hudson? How the hell can you eat that shit?" Wierzbowski asked, his tone amazed. "You'd think it was pussy the way you're lapping it." That had most everyone laughing, including Shepard.

"The trick is not tasting it." The squad's technician replied with a grin. "All the taste buds are on your tongue, so you just put the spoon on the taste buds and swallow."

"Is that what Hicks taught you last night?" Vasquez shot off an insult, a choir of _Burn!_ echoing from the tableful of Marines. Hudson's face got red from embarrassment, obviously unable to make a comeback.

"So, El-Tee? You really the Ripper's granddaughter?" Wierzbowski asked, his tone doubtful. "Cuz that is some shit!"

"_Puta_ took down one of them bugs without a _pistola_. _Mal-culo_!" Vasquez pointed out, jerking her head. "Them bugs are mean mothers. Ripper's got some _cajones_. You should have seen El-Tee waxing them bitches left-and-right. Stone cold hardcore bitch right there."

"Waxed more bugs than I did." Drake admitted, the large Scandinavian man stirring more ketchup into his breakfast. "Fights like a Turian; doesn't show her back, and retreats by fire and explosives. Damn bugs never knew what hit 'em."

"I hate bugs." Frost announced. "Spiders. Flies. Roaches. Ants. They can all kiss my ass and die."

"Heard that." Apone agreed. "We get off this rock? I'm buying stock in Raid and roach motels. Be making a dime, son!" There were a few good-natured whoops around the table as Shepard ate her food, trying Hudson's theory out about putting the spoon on the taste buds of her mouth and trying to swallow it without tasting it. _Son of a bitch, it actually works…_

"What I don't get," Hicks said, taking over the conversation, "is where all those eggs came from. Ripley's ship had a lot supposedly, but something like eight hundred? 50 klicks away? That don't add up." The Marines went silent as the Corporal talked. "Those bugs picked up the colonists from here and moved 'em over to the processing plant for a reason."

"Space? Temperature? Dark and steamy?" Wierzbowski guessed, throwing his two credits in. "I mean, it was muggy as hell in there. Maybe they like that?"

"It's because that's where the eggs were." Shepard replied, all eyes turning to her. "Animals pick a place to lay their eggs, and then they bring food home for the kids. I noticed we didn't get attacked until I shot that woman in the chest. I killed one of the kids, and the bugs came out. But something had to lay all those eggs, at least one for every colonist. Seven hundred and forty-three of them. So what's laying the eggs?"

"Yeah, man. It's like an ant hive." Hudson nodded, getting it.

"Bees, man. Bees have hives." Vasquez corrected him with an impatient tone.

"You know what I mean." Hudson retorted, scowling at the Gunner. "There's like… one female who runs the whole show."

"A Queen." Shepard answered.

"Yeah, Big Momma." Hudson nodded, smiling. "And she's badass! I mean, big!" He held out his forefinger and his thumb about an inch apart in a bracket, indicating the size of an ant queen.

"These things ain't ants, _pendejo_." Vasquez pointed out, her tone exasperated.

"I know that!" The squad's technician defended himself with some snark in his tone. "I just mean she's gonna be bigger than the rest. The alpha dog. Bitch-in-charge!"

"You know… Hudson, you may have just said the smartest thing all day." Shepard put down her spoon, her food forgotten as she looked at the PFC, his jaw dropped open at the compliment. The others looked at the technician in surprise before returning to her. "Ants have drones; workers and warriors. They make a colony, burying it in the sand for protection and storage, carving out tunnels to protect the colony, to prevent other creatures from attacking the one that matters; the Queen." She clasped her hands in front of her, her elbows on the table, holding out a finger and beating at an invisible drum as she thought it out. "Queens control their drones through pheromones, secreting some chemical that the other ants can 'smell' through their skin, giving them orders. Lay a stink, and workers go get food. Drop some smell, and the warriors carve into something encroaching their territory. Spritz a little perfume, and the male goes knock up the queen to make more drones."

"Shit. This is it!" Crowe tossed his spoon down. "That day in my life that my science teacher told me that biology would save my life. Dick." That got a couple of chuckles from the table, but no one else spoke. Shepard had the floor, and they all listened.

"Those fuckers were protecting their woman, the Queen." Shepard realized out loud, looking at the 343 Mobile Infantry. "They weren't attacking us first because we were meals-on-wheels; we were going to walk into a nest of eggs sooner-or-later, I bet. Queen played it safe, and let us go into a trap. When I found that woman and I shot her, we showed ourselves to be aggressive, hostile. What did they do?"

"Same thing all ants do when you kick the mound; swarm." Hicks replied, nodding. "No tactics, no mercy. They defended their home with numbers."

"That's right. It wasn't about knocking us up with cute little bugs," Shepard pointed out, getting a few faces from the others, "that was a straight military action. They were coming to kill us, but we got away. What would be next on the agenda? What would we do if someone came into our homes, kicked in the door, and punched us before running back out?"

"Come back and kick their asses." Vasquez replied without a second's hesitation.

"That's right." Shepard pointed at Vasquez. "Retreat. Recuperate. Reorganize. Resupply. Reinforce." That came right out of the Officer Candidate School handbook. "What comes next?"

"Reconnaissance." Gunny Apone folded his hands in front of him, all his attention on the conversation as he looked at her. "They're going to get as much intelligence about us as they can. Location, disposition, defenses, armaments, avenues of approach, and logistics."

"But they're animals, man!" Hudson pointed out. "Animals can't do that! Can't they?"

"They all do, in a certain fashion." Shepard answered, nodding. "Lions stalk their prey for the same reasons. Wolves hunt in packs. Birds glide in the air in the search for a mouse in a field. Sharks sense motion and blood in the water. All the same thing, the evolution of domination, Darwinism in action. Our tactics are the law of the land, just done in a way _we_ can understand it. So we need to think _like_ them." She had everyone's attention; no one was touching their gunk, anymore. "They like it dark and humid, I think Ski's got that one right. The plant was a defensive position; protected from the elements, from arial predators, and limited approaches. Remember the tunnel? Only access into the colony unless we wanted to go completely around. That isn't stupidity at work; we just did the same thing ourselves. And these creatures were smart enough to take _everyone_ here, probably piecemeal at a time, until one day someone woke and realized three-quarters of the colony was fucking missing, and then it was full-blown panic mode."

"Probably spent two Goddamn hours arguing about it before someone took charge and did something about it." Apone reasoned, his tone disgusted. "Two hours that could have been spent doing what we did."

"And they made it in." Shepard pointed out. "Admittedly, we've got it way better, but the bugs found a way. They did their reconnaissance. They found a weak point. And what comes after recon?"

"Revenge." Drake replied quietly, sitting up in his bench. "You break back into the other motherfuckers' house and you punch him right back."

"Exactly." Shepard wiped her mouth off with a napkin, no longer hungry. "I'm going to work something out with a rescue, perhaps an independent merchant vessel will hear me, or maybe I can hire some mercs to pick us up. Until then, stay to your shifts, clean your weapons, rest when you can, and bunker down.

"This isn't a hold-out; this is a siege."

* * *

"_El-Tee! El-Tee! To Ops, priority!_"

The sound of Warrant Officer Colette Ferro's voice coming from her Omnitool woke up 2nd Lieutenant Jane Shepard from her sleep, ordered by Gunnery Sergeant Apone after she had been up for more than 24-hours straight. A quick look at her Omnitool told her the time was 1040; she had only gotten two hours in. Stumbling out of the bunk in the temporary female dormitory, Shepard popped the door open and went down the corridor and immediately to the right into the Med Bay, passing Dietrich and Vasquez on guard duty on her way to the colony's Command Control Center. She walked in to see Ferro at the main deck of the colony director, looking at the main monitor along with Apone and Carter Burke. Most of the rest of the platoon was there as well, sitting by and watching silently, Hudson the only one missing as he had been ordered to sleep, too. Ripley and Bishop weren't there either, having been up all night.

"They probing us?" Shepard asked, and was surprised with a steaming mug of coffee from Hicks, whose face was set grim.

"Yep." Apone pointed at the monitor, an unlit cigar in his hand. Shepard saw the image was from one of the Zeus' in the maintenance corridor that ran from colony to atmospheric station underground. "Started picking up movement just outside the gun's range. Haven't come in yet. Wonder why?"

"Because they're waiting for the order. Coordinated strike." Shepard replied, taking a sip of the coffee, now fully awake. "It's like a castle siege. You start by surrounding the fortress. Then you test its strengths and weaknesses." Drake replied with _Shit!_ under his breath, shaking his head as the image showed _something_ moving in the background. "My guess? There's a team at all three access gates as well as the maintenance corridor. As soon as everyone's in position…"

"Go time." Petty Officer 3rd Class Daniel Spunkmeyer elaborated in a sing-song voice. "Do'ya think the warriors do the pheromone thing with each other? Like a stink-bomb communication network?"

"Absolutely. That's how they can warn a colony about an attack." Shepard replied, taking another sip of coffee. "I thought those tubule things on their backs were like snorkels for breathing, but they're transmitter/receivers for the pheromones to and from one another. No idea about the range or capabilities, but I think with the circumstances, as long as there's air movement between the Queen and her warriors, we can assume they can talk to one another effectively."

"I fucking hate bugs." Frost put out again, shaking his head, his dark face troubled. "M'Daddy was an exterminator, always comin' hope smelling of that chemical shit, pictures of bugs on his work vehicle and on his overalls."

"Call him up. Tell him we got a job he'd love." Crowe teased, making Frost smack the Private in his arm. Shepard took another sip of coffee and then went to reach for a clove cigarette… and realized that she was pretty much standing in a room full of men, wearing a tight Underarmor shirt with no bra and her issued black boxer-briefs, rocking out her long legs. Thankfully, no one else seemed to have noticed, though Hicks did give her a cigarette and a lighter, which Shepard accepted. She took a puff of the tobacco stick and blew it out, her eyes back on the monitor.

"We're picking up movement by the North Gate door." Chief Ferro reported, working on the work station's haptic screen, extending another screen to have two simultaneously up, one showing the complex schematic with motion alarms, the other showing a camera of the North Gate door. "Looks like… 40 meters. 39 Meters. Taking their time."

"Getting set up." Apone announced. "Like cheetahs on a wildebeest. Any minute now."

"Ferro. See if we can clock their ground speed, how fast they can run." Shepard told the pilot, who nodded and started typing on the haptic keyboard in front of her, the holographic device making a soft electronic beep for every fingered input. "Split the screen four ways; North, South, West gates, and the maintenance corridor. Let's see how well-coordinated they are."

"Aye, aye, ma'am." Ferro never looked up from her work as the main monitor now showed a quadrant of images, three exterior shots well-lit by external lighting, and one interior shot of a long corridor that was well-lit for fifty meters. "South Gate's picking up movement. 45 meters."

"Be interesting to see how many they use." Hicks spoke softly as Shepard took another drag of the cigarette. "Probing or assault."

"Well, they've got at least 619 bugs to go and figure it out." Shepard responded equally as soft, her eyes on the monitor. "Every one of them that dies is one less during a major push. Sooner or later, they're either going to break their backs trying to get to us or they're going to starve us out. That's how a siege works."

"Movement, West Gate." The Warrant Officer announced, reading the motion tracker for the colony. "40 meters. 40 meters for all 4 of them, ma'am… and holding."

"On your mark." Shepard said, her voice reaching every person in the room. "Get set." Every set of eyes were on the monitor, looking at the four images of real-time video.

_Go_.

Like a dam bursting, a flood of bugs flew right towards the possible entrances of the colony complex, streaking out from various locations of the area around the Gates, coming out in a semi-circle pattern. Their speed was frighteningly fast; dog-on-flat-surface-running fast, probably in the 40 kph range, Shepard figured. They covered the 40 meter distance in about three-and-a-half seconds, the bugs smashing into the North and South Gate doors with futility, their claws scratching at it without effect. They immediately went right up the walls of the colony complex, climbing up the iridium-reinforced steel structure with ease and speed. _Guess they can climb anything_, Shepard thought to herself as she sipped her coffee, watching the event unfold. It was a probing action, perhaps ten per team, seeing where the obvious vulnerabilities were for Hadley's Hope; the doors. The Zeus' set in the maintenance corridor immediately went to fire at the team that charged down the corridor, the guns having been set to fire at 35 meter targets. Despite their speed, the bugs were chopped to pieces within meters, never getting closer than thirty meters of the guns.

And in the image of the West Gate, ten xenomorphs streamed right in.

"Ferro, West Gate succession."

The West Gate door image stayed, but the other three changed, going to the hallway that came from the West Gate, the junction that led towards the defensive line of Zeus' and LOKI, and a camera that would show the action when the bugs got into range of the turret's fire. Shepard watched as the ten aliens crawled right into the hallways, and watched as one got up on its hind legs, standing up to its full height, and watched as it reared its head and opened its mouth. Even without audio, she knew that it had let out a screech.

"Calling all cars."

The ten aliens moved around in the hallway, most traveling on the walls or the ceiling (that was new), but a few stayed on the ground. What surprised her was that they were taking their time. Were they waiting for their other twenty kin? Did they realize that something was too good to be true? Shepard watched, the entirety of the Ops Center silent as she sipped her coffee and watched, learning as she did. The West Gate image showed the other aliens finally reaching the small door, all of them approaching it from the walls as oppose to the ground; a good tactic, harder to hit a higher target, Shepard thought to herself. She counted the newcomers, and was glad to see that twenty more went into the West Gate corridor. No stragglers. That was good.

"Ferro. Lockdown West Gate."

The door slammed shut behind the last bug, and several turned at the metal door, their jaws opening, undoubtedly shrieking defiance as their exit was cut off. All thirty were in the hallway, the first group having stayed put, doing small searches for any other access for them to tunnel into, but finding none. Not only had they sealed every door when they locked down the complex, but the Marines had welded all the joinings together, and slapped some Omnigel and QuikCured it just to be on the safe side, making a bond that would take even a high-explosive round without snapping. Of course, those were all stand-alone colony bedrooms, more or less, but it was a test to see what the bugs would do. Would they explore? Would they pry? Did they think, learn, and adapt?

"What are they waiting for?" Crowe asked, confused.

"Orders. We closed them off." Shepard realized, seeing the bugs milling about in the hallway, but not proceeding any further. "They can't smell Big Momma anymore, and they don't know what to do. Now they're just drones; they'll attack to defend, but otherwise they'll probably just search slowly for a means to sniff out the pheromones or find a place to hide." Shepard thought it over for a moment. "Ferro, release the West Gate door. Let Momma know what's going on, and let's see what happens."

"Aye, aye." The West Gate door opened, and the change was almost immediate. The bugs went from shuffling and snooping to a fierce, well-coordinated unit, scurrying on every surface, searching methodically, going over every nook and cranny they could find. They tested the doors, tried to pull grating, and were like bloodhounds looking for a scent.

"Shut door."

The door closed once more, and after a minute or so, the aliens went back to drone mode. It was almost comical.

"Son of a bitch. Hive mentality." Apone called it out, his tone jovial. "Big Momma's the boss, alright. Take her out, and the rest of them are just… purposeless."

"Instinct, but no intelligence themselves." Shepard nodded, having seen what Apone was seeing. "As long as someone does the thinking for them, they're like commandos. Take away the brain, and their oversized insects. Ferro, open door and leave it open. Let's see if they go back or if they go forward." The West Gate door opened, and the bugs changed back into ruthless predators, all thirty of them searching every square inch of the corridor until they reached the first turn. There wasn't anything in the next hallway to stop them, but the bugs sent a lone drone out, right in the middle, scurrying about five meters deep, slowly raising from its crouch and standing halfway up. Ferro zoomed in on the alien, and the image showed the alien turning back, screeching. "That's right, motherfucker. All's quiet on the western front…" Shepard sing-songed as she watched on, the other twenty-nine resuming their search pattern, scouring and testing everything. The corridor's length was approximately fifty meters long, and it took the aliens several minutes to search everything out.

Then they were at the juncture.

Once more a lone drone was sent to scout, an expendable unit, moving forward to test the safety of the new hallway. Shepard watched the same thing unravel, knowing that the bugs would soon be reaching the range of the Zeus Auto-Turrets in about twenty meters. But she didn't want the bugs to know that.

"Ferro, put Zeus' on stand-by." Shepard ordered, watching the screen. "Continue to track, but no engagement."

"Ma'am?" The Warrant Officer looked at her, confused.

"It's like poker, Colette. You don't reveal all your cards until the end." Shepard supplied. The Marines looked around nervously, unsure of what she was doing, but a look at Apone and Hicks showed her that they did know what she was going to do.

She was going to send a message.

The bugs searched and tested, going deeper into the complex corridor, well within the range of the guns. Shepard looked at the tracker, seeing the distance from Zeus to alien slowly crawl down, already closer than the 75 meter mark the Auto-Turrets had been set on for engagement. Now they were approaching fifty. Their search pattern never changed as the thirty aliens crawled, poked, prodded, and tested every square inch of the corridor in a line, never straying from their path, never getting out of line. The clinical part of Shepard marveled at the sophistication and precision of the creatures. This wasn't some beast from who-knew-where? This was a sentient species, albeit with unusual characteristics. Perhaps they were like the Rachni. The bugs crawled and searched on every surface, seven of them on the ceiling, walls, and floor each, with two that walked on hid legs just behind the group. Even numbering, even spacing… the perfect breed of warrior.

Almost.

"Ferro? Close hatch." The West Gate door closed once more, the aliens now thirty-two meters from the Zeus', the four guns tracking the bugs without firing. The West Gate door now closed, the aliens resumed their drone-like behavior, milling about like sheep after a few moments. Twenty-seven meters from the Auto-Turrets. Good enough.

"Waste the fuckers."

The four Zeus' opened fired simultaneously, and Shepard recalled the saying 'shooting fish in a barrel'. The bugs never stood a chance as the first four fell within a quarter of a second from a burst of mass-accellerated rounds hitting four in the chests or heads, adjusting in a quarter of a second, and shooting the next salvo and the next set of victims. The entirety of the massacre took approximately four seconds, the Zeus able to target and fire at two different targets a second in a narrow arc range, in which the bugs were in. When the first eight dropped chest cavities exploding or heads obliterated, their acidic blood splashing and spraying everything, the rest of the twenty-two bugs perked up, bounding forward to meet the threat. Another eight dropped before they were able to cross the first meter distance, and and the next the second after. The last six were shot to pieces before the distance counter could even reach twenty-four meters, all thirty aliens dead, their blood scoring the metal surrounding where they died. The LOKI stationed twenty meters behind the Zeus' hadn't even targeted them, the alines having not reached the forty meter engagement protocol set. Shepard watched as the alien bodies laid there, their blood and guts melting through the steel grating of the floor, but not the iridium-enforced steel of the decking underneath it; that was good to know. The Marines around the Ops Center were cheering and hollering at the one-sided massacre. The wisps of acidic smoke cleared from the camera's view, and Shepard was ready.

"Ferro? Raise West Gate door. Let them whiff."

The door opened, and the motion trackers outside the colony went off, reading signals at 40 meters, bolting off in the opposite direction of the colony. The cheering had died from that, everyone thinking the same thing; the aliens had been prepared to storm.

"Let Big Momma mull that one over for a little bit." Shepard announced with a sigh, putting down her empty coffee mug. "There's only enough room on this moon for one Queen, bitch."

* * *

A/N: Admiral Perter Lamount is the Production Design of the film Aliens, Peter Lamount.

The SSV _Iwo Jima_ was destroyed in 2165 fighting off Blue Sons, not Batarian pirates in 2161. This is seen in the novel Mass Effect: Revelations

Datapads are much like tablets, but I made it a hardware screen as oppose to an empty frame with a haptic display, though it comes with that option. The only real advancement I added from our own tablets was the biometric scanner of a thumbprint, which is possible in this day and age.

Some of the information on Amanda 'Ripper' Ripley-Shepard comes from Amanda 'Amy' Ripley-McClaren of 'Alien: Isolation'. The birth dates are the same, as is her being an engineer. In Aliens, Amanda Ripley died on December 23, 2177 at the age of 66 from cancer, while Amanda Shepard died in December 23, 2162.

The defense of Hadley's Hope is obviously radically different here than in the movie. With the survival of the platoon, the APC in working order, and the drop ship having not crashed, there are more hands, more equipment, and less desperation to go around. Plus, the addition of the LOKI mechs is there, too. But it is like Shepard said; this is a siege.


	11. 11: The Siege Of Hadley's Hope (Part II)

Disclaimer: BioWare owns Mass Effect. 20th Century Fox owns the _Alien_ franchise.

**LV 426, November 16, 2176**

"Your call, Ricco." Gunnery Sergeant Apone said in his brass voice, doing so around a smoked stogie.

"Man, fuck this game." Private Ricco Frost threw his cards down, sulking. "Hicks can't deal for _shit_."

"Your lousy ass playin' don't mean my dealin' ain't good, boy." Corporal Dwayne Hicks replied with a drawl, taking a drag of his cigarette.

"Dwayne, we've had the same river cards three deals in a row." 2nd Lieutenant Jane Shepard pointed out, looking at her two cards; a two of diamonds and a eight of spades. The only reason she _hadn't_ fold was because there were two other eights in the pot, and 3 eights weren't too bad. The rest of the cards were shit, and the eight was the highest number. She had this hand in a bag.

"Jane?" Apone asked, his eyebrows going up as he puffed on his cigar.

"Match you're five, and raise you five." Shepard smiled as she threw out a few credit chits into the pot. "I'm fixing to make Dwayne cry because I've got a fatter wallet than he does."

"Not if I win…" Hicks sang out, smiling as he three in ten credits. "I think I'll call this the 'LT Ink' fund. Get Jane a drunk tattoo."

"And mar this pretty skin?" Shepard laughed as Apone chuckled, Hicks throwing out another shit card in the river. "Gods, Dwayne. We're playing Texas Hold 'Em, not Go Fish. Lay out some real cards!" Frost grunted beside her, his arms crossed against his chest, sitting out the hand and the verbal abuse.

"It is a shit river, isn't it?" The Gunny lamented, looking at his cards, chewing on his cigar, and then looking at the pot, which was now at about fifty credits or so. "Y'know? Fuck it." His burly hand went and pressed itself on his remaining credit chits, probably about twenty or so, and slid it into the pot. "I want to see the El-Tee with a tattoo. Something badass. Like a flower or some shit."

"Oh. Har-har-har." Shepard mocked back, looking at her eight of spades. "I win this pot? I'm drawing a cock on your cheek with my Omnitool." Everyone laughed at that, including Apone as Shepard considered the merits of folding. "You know what? Fuck it. I'm all in, too. Dwayne looks like he needs an Elcor cow stripper."

"Ouch." Hicks shuddered, making a face of disgust. "Sincerely; would you like me to touch that for you?" The Corporal mimed an Elcor, and everyone roared with it, Apone wiping away tears as Frost almost fell out of the bench seat, holding his gut. Shepard was slapping the table, almost knocking herself out as she doubled over.

"Gods, what a fucking day." Shepard looked to Hicks, who merely looked at his cards, then at the river, and then to her, giving her a raised eyebrow, his head tilted _just_ right enough to be appealing. She wasn't sure if she should be intrigued or annoyed. "Are you going to embrace eternity with your cards, Dwayne, or are you going to play poker?"

"Fine. I'm in." The Corporal sighed, sliding in his chits, the pot now easily over a hundred credits. "Age before beauty." Hicks pointed at Apone, indicating for him to lay down.

"Ladies first." Apone replied, looking over to her.

"I write your Godsdamned NCO Evaluation Reports." Shepard shot out, making Frost reply with a _Daaammmmn! _covering his mouth up with a fist. "On three?"

"On three." Hicks agreed, the Gunny nodding his head. "One, two…"

Six cards were slapped on the table at the same time, and Shepard found herself studying the other player's cards. Apone had… shit… Apone had bet with a pair of threes? What was the point in that? Hicks had… _shit_! Hicks had a straight! He had been holding a five and a seven, and a four, and six, and an eight were in the river! Why the hell hadn't he jumped on the 'all in' after everyone else had done so before him?

"I know, I know!" Hicks held up his hands in a surrender motion as both Apone and her stared at him, the Corporal smiling easily. "It isn't easy, but somebody's got to be this good."

"Son of a _bitch_!" Shepard swore, shaking her head in admonishment, looking at the cards again. Not that she was a card counter or anything, but she had been so sure that she had this hand. That six in the river had been the last card out, too! "Enjoy your winnings, Corporal."

"Oh, I will." Hicks chuckled, scooping up the credit chits as Shepard got out of her seat, Apone content to watch Hicks and Frost duke it out over the table. The makeshift dining facility was now the makeshift Rec Room as well, and she saw a couple others still up, occupying themselves. Petty Officer Daniel Spunkmeyer was watching some vid on his Omnitool's viewer, a pair of earphones connected to it, while Lance Bishop, the Science Officer, was reading a datapad, making notation on another with a stylus. It was he that Shepard approached, the Science Officer looking up from his work.

"Ah, Lieutenant." The man spoke, his eyes returning to his work. "I've been going through the lab reports and findings of the Science Lab. There is, by the way, and extra wing behind the quarantine/containment room hidden behind a concealed door, which opens up to the Labs. It is quite large, and monstrous in nature."

"Something in there I need to see?" Shepard asked as she took a seat in a plastic chair nearby.

"Important in the way that illegal research was being conducted, yes." The Science Officer answered. "No biological specimens are in there; no facehuggers, eggs, or xenomorphs of any species. I guess that they were released sometime during the start of what the scientists of the lab called the 'infection cycle'. Russel Jorden, Newt's father, was merely a work on Weyland-Yutani's part outside the system. The Lab had already begun its own experiment; how long it would take for a colony to be completely eradicated by the xenomorphs with a controlled number of 'bugs'." Shepard couldn't believe what she was hearing. "Lieutenant, the number of scientists that were working on this project was staggering, somewhere around twenty-five. They had their own guards as well, all stationed in the Science Lab. Director Harper claimed that it was 'self-sufficient and self-contained' and in this, he wasn't incorrect. Living quarters, supplies, power source… it was meant to survive the fall of the colony of Hadley's Hope."

"Then… where are they?" Shepard asked, the obvious blaring right at her. Twenty-five scientists and who knew how many guards don't just go missing. They either moved, ran, left, or were subdued like the colonists.

"There was a breech in protocol." Bishop explained, his face grimacing. "Evidently, one of the extra-species xenomorphs displayed a trait they weren't prepared for; the Drell version have chameleon-like skin that can blend in with its surroundings when not moving, and someone must have thought the room was empty." Shepard boggled at that. Great, invisible monsters. "It broke containment and somehow the others were flushed out. They left the Science Lab."

"The last stand." Shepard realized, thinking it through. "The colony must have been mostly depopulated by then, but if the scientists and the guards were still here…"

"The aliens didn't break _into_ the Command Center, as we originally thought. We were thinking of it backwards." Bishop nodded. "The xenomorphs tore through the barricade and then they were shot coming out, not going in. We don't know their fate, but I think it's safe to assume that the scientists and the guards were captured and cocooned like the rest. Since they were tagged with CDT's like the colonists, they could have been in the nest you discovered without us knowing. The guards were all Turian, and the scientists were a mixture of Asari, Salarian, and human, with one Hanar specialist. And then there are the test subjects they brought in."

"The mercs." Shepard sighed, remembering the datapad that Bishop had handed her earlier. "I remember the majority of the… _alien_ aliens were Turian and Batarian; more numerous as mercs and easier to hire, I bet. Cheaper, too, I'd imagine. They're all missing?"

"Yes." The Science Officer replied, his tone ugly. Shepard briefly wondered if the man was mad because he missed a golden opportunity to study a new species. Then again, she wouldn't have minded a little extra scientific knowledge to help them in their siege. "Perhaps the Drell bug released the others; no contamination alarm was set, so the Science Lab facility never went into lockdown. Something else I've learned was that the scientists were able to control the fact that every 'bug' created was either a worker or a warrior; no Queens were made."

"The eggs from the ship." Shepard realized, thinking of the ship the _Nostromo's_ crew found almost sixty years prior. "They must have already known it was there. No Big Momma, no eggs. They went to the only place the eggs were already laid."

"Exactly." Bishop nodded, smiling. "The eggs were moved with biotics, to keep someone from being infected, placed into stasis boxes, and moved here."

"That means there's an external access, Bishop. No Asari with a box marked 'biological contaminate' walked the halls of Hadley's Hope with a talon of Turian guards, I assure you. Would have freaked out us humans." Shepard pointed out, making the Science Officer nod slowly.

"Stands to reason, but I haven't found it." Bishop admitted. "My primary concern was searching for the threat of the species, from egg to xenomorph. I didn't see any labeled access, but I honestly hadn't thought about that."

"Let's check it out now." Shepard stood up, conscious that she was wearing an Edmonton Blood Dragons jersey and some colonial worker's pants, completed with a pair of shoes that happened to fit her feet. "Let me get my Predator, and we'll do a quick sweep of the little shop of horror."

* * *

'Little shop of horror' didn't cover it.

2nd Lieutenant Jane Shepard had walked through the back of the quarantine room with Science Officer Lance Bishop, the man opening the partition door that seemingly matched the wall that it was connected to, Shepard marveling slightly at the ingenuity of it. One always heard and saw about in vids, but a real-life one had been completely unexpected. She walked in behind Bishop, the Alliance Science Officer leading her inside the secret wing of the Science Lab that had been conducting illegal research on Gods-knew-what, taking her down a flight of stairs that had a turnback to it. The first thing she noticed was a large stenciled logo of Weyland-Yutani on the wall, the large 'WY' interconnected, telling her all she needed to know. Shepard snorted at the sight; Eldfall-Ashland her ass. Damn Corporation had its head so far up its ass that it slapped a damn neon sign on whom to blame. Bishop led her deeper into the Science Wing, and what she truly noticed about it was its size; it was a complex, easily tens-of-thousands of square feet, perhaps as large as the colony complex itself! Carter burke had mentioned that Hadley's Hope was about twenty years old… and she couldn't see someone building this underground lab _after_ the complex was in place. It had been built first, and then a colony set up over it, perhaps as a smoke screen. She really couldn't see a terraforming colony of heavy metals making enough money to justify the expense, probably barely above the red line in profits. The colony was really just the frosting of the cake.

And Shepard was walking into the thick of what Weyland-Yutani was cooking up.

The first series of rooms were security stations, live-in quarters, and small arms ranges for the security officers of the Science Wing, and a quick look into one of the rooms had Shepard seeing motifs that suggested a Turian had lived there; martial posters, a picture of Palaven, clothing that would never fit a human, and a mirror for the application of colonial markings that Turians were so fond of. The beds were larger than human-norm, and naturally grooved for their plates, and the chairs were designed for Turian physiology; while human chairs had backs to rest against, Turian ones had fronts for the same purpose, as well as leg rests for the reverse shin-flex and spars their physiology contained. It was the first time she had seen something so personal for a Turian, never really having met one, and only seen a few in real-life, passing them by as they visited Earth.

Shepard left the room alone, feeling like an intruder.

Past the security station was the 'mad science lab', as she started thinking it as, seeing many pieces of medical equipment and apparatus that indicated that medical research was going on. Contained medical tables with VI-driven servo-arms dominated the first room they passed by, obviously for autopsies on possibly contagious specimens, and a morgue filled the second room, making Shepard feel quite uneasy about the whole thing, especially when she saw a small incinerator near the back of the morgue for body disposal. The next several rooms on either side of the wide hallway they walked in showed research labs; work stations, testing facilities, cabinets filled with chemicals and medical vials filled with Gods-knew-what, centrifuges, spectrometers, and those were just the things she recognized off hand. There was plenty of equipment she didn't know the name or purpose for, and Shepard was pretty sure she didn't want details. One of the research labs had many biological contaminate containers like the ones that held the facehugger specimens, though they were thankfully empty. Little spider things freaked her out, and she wasn't ashamed to admit it.

Lance Bishop reached the first airlock door, and accessed it, leading Shepard deeper inside.

"Oh Gods…" Shepard breathed out, finding herself, of all places, a quarantine lockdown facility. She had seen such things in vids; sci-fi flicks with low budgets and bad writing, mad Salarian scientists cackling off to the side as weird experiments were performed on poor humans and animals. It looked like a fully-functional, high-grade, legitimate version of those, a real-life version populated with real-life beings while real-life illegal research was done. Multiple cells lines the walkways of the quarantine wing, being at least a dozen walkways, each cell heavily reinforced with a single wall made of an energy forcefield, and a high-grade one, at that. Shepard went to the closest one to her, thankfully empty, easy to see that the one hundred square foot cell was blissfully empty, compliments of the translucent energy field. She remembered that some of the 'mercs' were Elcor, Krogan, and Asari, so she imagined that the fields were tough enough to contain them, not to mention whatever they would birth. The cell was utterly bland; white walls, white floor, a drain in the middle of the floor, some lighting, and the view going to the cell across the way. Shepard tried to imagine it, being stuck in this cell; no escape, looking at another creature across the way, some human or Asari in a lab coat walking the walkway, silently taking notes as one waited for whatever would happen. The thought sent a strong shiver down her spine.

Fucking disgusting.

"Come, I want to show you something." Bishop spoke softly, having waited as Shepard stared into the cell, her thoughts interrupted by the Science Officer. They continued to walk down the walkway, and she easily counted a dozen containment cells for each side, for a dozen walkways. Twenty-four times twelve… two hundred and eighty-eight cells. Shepard wondered if the Turian security team had brought hoards of colonists into the Science Lab for breeding, capturing dozens at a time at night with the use of tranquilizers, perhaps even with the cooperation of the colonial directors. Bishop led her deeper into the tomb of horrors, reaching the end of the walkway, and they found themselves at another airlock passage. Bishop went to punch in the code for the door, but paused for a moment, half-turning to her.

"Lieutenant, what is in here… is simply the most disturbing thing I have ever seen in my life." The Science Officer explained, his face dark and haunted. "Words can't describe, but this will easily beat what you discovered in the atmospheric station, near the nest." Shepard felt her eyes go wide with the description. How could it get worse than that? Did she really want to know?

The door opened, and Shepard tentatively went forward, steeling herself.

* * *

"_Please…" The teenaged woman begged, looking up to her with pleading eyes, suspended by thick, mucusy strands of the hardish substance that held her aloft from the ground. "Please… kill me." She looked so gaunt, so pale, so horrified by what she had seen, by what had happened to her, knowing what the future held in store. The empty egg pod in front of her was a clue. The dead corpse of a facehugger laying in front of her suspended body was a clue. The multitude of colonists who were equally detained on the walls of pipes and metal with their chests burst open was a clue. The woman began to scream as her back arched outward, her face contorting in agonizing pain as a distinct ripping noise emanated from her chest, the center of her chest slowly bulging outward. A wet red stain began to grow on her simple shirt, spreading out and down as the bulge grew more pronounced, the ripping noise louder as the teenaged woman jerked and shrieked in pain, begging to die as the front of her shirt ripped open…_

2nd Lieutenant Jane Shepard walked into something that was worse than her nightmares.

"They're… still alive?" Shepard gulped, feeling her lunch threatening to come back up, the urge to vomit suppressed for the moment. Her eyes were on the column of containment cells, each of the fields facing her, so she had a clear view of what was inside. Unlike the previous ones, these were occupied. And their occupants were seemingly still alive.

"Unfortunately, yes." Bishop replied quietly, breathing heavily. "I… don't know how to end their lives, or know a safe method of being able to go in and give each one of them mercy without the possibility of contamination. I left them here because… I don't think they were meant to _be_ killed. I just couldn't find a way."

Shepard looked at the cells, slowly seeing what Bishop meant. The energy fields seemed to be running off of two separate power sources, and unlike the ones that she had passed, didn't seem to have any kind of device or access to be able to turn them on or off. Neither was there any kind of kill switch that she could see, anything that would burn or destroy the testing that was still going on, as revolting as it was. All ten cells were occupied, and some of the occupants were looking right at them.

"Gods…" Shepard mumbled, feeling her heart wrenching in her chest, the urge to vomit increasing violently. She swallowed the rising bile that threatened to expunge itself, and she taste the bitter bile in the back of her throat. "Who could do such a thing? Who could live with themselves, knowing this?"

"I don't know, Lieutenant." Bishop replied sadly, shaking his head as they both looked at the test subjects.

In the cells were three Krogan, three Asari, three Elcor, and a single Hanar. All still alive.

"Why haven't they starved to death? Why haven't they expired?" Shepard asked, feeling numb, dirty just knowing about it.

"VI-driven supplementation, injections to increase usefulness. Completely off the network of computers that I have access to. I know, I tried." Bishop explained. "Those force fields are the same we use on our ships to withstand a breach, and can easily take small arms fire and explosives, such as grenades. The only way I can see stopping this is to find the power source and shutting it down. It risks contamination, the energy fields would go off-line, but we could stop this from continuing. But I haven't found the power source or the power lines to this part of the facility. They are completely separate, and probably off-grid."

"Deep enough that an orbital strike might not affect it." Shepard theorized, unconsciously looking up. "The complex is right above us, too. We'd need a crustbuster missile to destroy this place, and the Alliance would never clear that. Can we destroy the cells?"

"Yes, but this facility would go into complete lockdown, and this colony does not have the tools to open up any of these doors, or even break them open." Bishop explained. "Plus, we would risk exposing ourselves and the rest of the personnel here if they were to try. That simply isn't an option. Attempting to destroy the energy fields would have the same effect. The only option that I could think of is we might be able to flood the cells; each do have a decontamination cycle, and if we were to lock it into the 'rinse' program, we could drown the Krogan, Elcor, and Asari. It's not humane, but they might be grateful. But that would leave us with the Hanar, who won't drown."

"What about the decontamination's radiation cycle?" Shepard asked, looking to the Science Officer. "I know they're low-level gamma-strength microwaves, but if we boost the power, perhaps we could initiate a burn. Possibly hot enough to kill all of them quickly."

"I'll look into that. It might be our best option." Bishop replied, pondering it. "Might not be enough for the Krogan, but the drowning option is still available, and their redundant nervous system might make it to where they don't actually feel it." Shepard didn't know if the man was trying to be a comfort or not, but she at least appreciated the effort. "Ever since I discovered this an hour ago, I've been trying to find ways to eliminate them without initiating a lockdown or risking contamination. As for what they are for… do you really want to know the details?"

"No, I've seen enough." Shepard replied quietly, looking at each of the cell members, horrified by each. "There must be an access to the surface, and another to a level below here. There must be a way they were feeding them eggs, and taking out the baby bugs. A maintenance level of some sort. Perhaps not big or tall enough to stand in, probably fully automated, but those cell drains have me thinking that there's something else under our feet."

"A good point. I'll look into it." Bishop's eyes went to the poor ten creatures in front of them. "I'll look into after I find a way to give these beings mercy. Maker knows how many xenomorphs they've given birth to. Hundreds each, possibly. And we have no idea where they are, either the single-use subjects or… theirs."

"Of course we do." Shepard replied, her heart in her throat. "Same place the Queen of those eggs are located; where all this shit started.

"Ripley's ship."

* * *

2nd Lieutenant Jan Shepard worked at the colony director's work station, typing out more requests for independent transportation for her and her Marines. After the cancelled request from earlier in the morning, Shepard had been sending 'supply requests', 'cargo manifests', and even tried simply throwing in 'in need of transportation' to independent merchants and haulers whom moved in and out of Relays on a constant basis. She had started with some of the companies that were liked to any of the major Corporations, like Colonial Movers and X-Press, but they came back with replies that none of their ships would be in the Zeta Reticuli System for the foreseeable future. She had also sent request for all known shipping manifests by travel, trying to see if any company would have someone coming to the system anytime soon. It was unlikely, as Hadley's Hope was the only colony, there were no other outposts or bases, and the fueling station about Calpamos was allowed to die a fiscal death, and had burned up in the gas giant so time ago. No fuel, no needs, and the next supply vessel knowingly to come to LV 426 was scheduled in six weeks time… if it hadn't been cancelled already.

No one was coming.

So Shepard lied.

She had sent an extranet data request for the names of truly independent movers, Captains of vessels that owned their boat and nobody to call 'boss'. Along with that, she also got the name of some other companies that had dealings with outside private security firms; mercenaries. She hated the fact that the tight-beam would be sent to the communications relay, redirected towards Sol, the VI-driven search engine linked to it gathering her information, and then sent back. The request would take an hour plus to be sent, and another to be sent back. Two hours… just to get search engine results. If they had been in a system with a Mass Relay, she couldn't had it back in a fraction of that time; minutes, at the very latest. She had gotten results, and typed up several requests for means of transportation. For the independent movers, she threw out numbers and a bid for a pick-up, claiming that a 'dig' was complete and that they needed some cargo and personnel picked up, including the weight of the _Cheyenne_ and the GRZLY as the 'cargo'. For one, a University on Earth, she mentioned a rare artifact find that would be best researched under proper facilities and not some backwater, and gave the same specifications, giving off the name of one of the scientists who had been working in that sick twisted experiment as a recipient. For the mercenaries, she simply gave them a brief mission outline (dubbed 'retrieval') and the numbers and weight. She had a conversation with Burke as how to throw out a bid for such legally grey dealings, knowing that they didn't have the luxury of a lengthy bidding war or not to be taken seriously enough. Burke, surprisingly, had a good amount of knowledge, being an executive in Weyland-Yutani's Acquisitions and Asset Recovery department. The scenario they were in (or, at least a WYC executive in need of a lift) was right up his alley, and he modified her requests before sending them out, putting bids and a deadline on them. Shepard was a little worried about the bid placed; she didn't realize how expensive it was to fly space until Burke told her what the current price was for going from Sol to Arcturus Stream; 64,000 credits, and that was the closest Relay-to-Relay jump!

"It's not that expensive when you own your own ship." Burke explained. "In fact, Heavy Helium only costs a few thousand credits at standard FTL per light-year. Eezo runs about 17,000 for a jump. Docking charges for a discharge at a facility runs about a thousand an hour. These independents charge so much because they're paying off the debt of their boats, all the costs incurred just to reach you and take you back, feeding and paying their crew, repairs… all the things a ship needs. It's cheaper with someone, such as Weyland-Yutani, because we've got a station in almost every system where the prices are pretty much written off as a company expense. We build the boats, charter a Captain, fuel at one of our stations from our own Helium-frakers, discharge at our facilities, stock with our equipment and supplies, and man it with our employees. Running a ship like that… probably 20,000 credits for a decent day's worth of work, less on a non-priority. That was a part of my job, security transportation to places such as this for the Corporation." The bureaucrat explained. Then he added several other companies that he knew of, putting it as a part of her request; smugglers, he explained, who were less likely to care about cargo and personnel. "You know, if you handed them the APC or the UD-4, I'd bet either one of those would give us a free ride home."

"Shit, I'd love to fill out that Dex Statement to the Alliance." Shepard snorted. "'_Gave multi-million credit vehicle to smugglers to pay for taxi._'" That had the mid-level executive chuckle. "Think Weyland-Yutani would front the bill, then?"

"Please, they would tie it in Corporate Court for so long it would never see the light of day." Burke replied, shaking his head. "A few injunctions, inquiries, a missed court date, and several useless subpoenas and you'll find yourself fronting not only the bill, but the court cost, too. Weyland-Yutani has a great track record in beating out lawsuits and giving out the most meager settlements… which are almost never paid in full. Why do you think it's the largest of the Conglomerated Corporations in Alliance Space?"

The request had been sent during lunch, and already Shepard had gotten a few replies back, mostly in the negative. One independent mover was willing to go for no less than 135,000 credits, but wouldn't be there until the end of the month. One of Burke's smugglers wanted a percentage of 'the take' at 60%. She wasn't about to give some shady smugglers a military vehicle, ground or aircraft. Besides, the smugglers also wanted half the credits up front. They weren't the dumbest smugglers, evidently. More than half of the requests were still pending, but Shepard thought that if some weren't interested, they wouldn't even bother replying. She would give them a few more hours, and write them off as a 'no'.

She sent out one last desperate request.

Gunnery Sergeant Al Apone had been there when she outline her final plea, wanting the man's opinion. She was going to send a request to her adoptive father for rescue. Apone had been a little surprised at that, and asked who he was. When Shepard told him, she got to watch the Gunny's jaw almost hit the floor. He, of course, approved of it, and had been there when she sent it. It wasn't that she didn't want to, but pride and humility could be hard things to deal with at times. What kid wanted to run back to a parent when things got tough, admitting to it? It was also the hardest request to sent; Shepard had no idea where her Pop was, and had to send it to his civilian in-box. If he were close, it would be soon. If he were out on mission, it could be days. His was the roll of the dice, which was why she brought it up to Apone; the last, desperate gamble. At least neither one of them doubted that if the request was seen, a rescue would be mounted.

Shepard sent the request to none other than her adopted father, Captain David Edward Anderson.

* * *

A/N: Ten Chapters. Over 50,000 words. Thirteen days. Over fourteen hundred views. Thanks be ye all for making Mass Effect vs. Aliens: The Siege Of Hadley's Hope one of the hottest things on FanFiction! This train ain't stopping save for the World War Alien Invasion Nuclear Armageddon Zombie Apocalypse! I figured... 50-60% complete. With story #1.

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Throwing the Weyland-Yutani logo on the walls of the secret lab is an ode to Cerberus. While WYC isn't Cerberus per se… they are.

Changing the furniture with Turians in mind was an interesting challenge, and I really don't know how it would look, save that the spars and the reverse flex of their shins suggest that our chairs probably wouldn't work for them. Yes, Garrus did sit in human-styled chairs in ME 1, but the spars go past the knees, suggesting that bending their legs at 90 degree angles isn't possible.

Some of the experimentation ideas come from the sick testing done by the Nazis, Imperial Japan's Unit 701, and America's MKUltra. In each, some biological experimentation was used, especially with Unit 701, who dropped plague-flies on China during WWII, killing tens, if not hundreds, of thousands. Truly disgusting stuff.

My original idea was to explain what happen to the experiments, but I elected not to, as I think it would go past 'horror' and right into 'disgusting'. For the Asari, Krogan, Elcor, and Hanar test subjects, I'm leaving it up to the reader's imagination what was happening to them.

The idea of independent haulers came from the A&amp;E TV show 'Shipping Wars', where independent cargo haulers take bids to ship the unshippable. The idea of an on-line galactic Ebay-styled transportation bid seems plausible in the Mass Effect Universe. Seriously, how does one hire the Blue Suns? Call the home office? "Hi, you've reached the desk of Vido Santiago. For murder, press 1. For revenge, press 2. For one of our representatives, please wait, and the first available operator will speak with you soon." Hehehehe.


	12. 12: The Siege Of Hadley's Hope (Part III

Disclaimer: BioWare owns Mass Effect. 20th Century Fox owns the _Alien_ franchise.

**LV 426, November 17, 2176**

"_LT? We got action on the cameras!"_

The sound of Carter Burke's voice over her Omnitool had 2nd Lieutenant Jane Shepard groaning as she got out of her cot, seeing Corporal Dietrich and Warrant Officer Ferro grumble with the voice, shifting in their beds and rolling back over to go back to sleep. _So hate you right now,_ Shepard thought snarkily as she got dressed in her 'off-duty' uniform of the Edmonton Blood Dragons jersey and pair of plain colonists' workers pants, complete with shoes. She had gotten off shift an hour or so ago, according to her Omnitool's chronometer, but military Commander's Critical Intelligence Requirements, or CCIR, required for her and Gunnery Sergeant Apone to be notified whenever there was an attack on any defenses or personnel. She couldn't blame Burke; she was the one that posted the CCIR's on the Ops Center work stations for any who happened to be there, including whoever was on TOC duty. It was currently Burke's shift, and she hoped that he wasn't the only one there, so at least he wouldn't get lonely and lose against the urge to fall asleep.

"I'll be there in less than a minute." Shepard replied over her Omnitool, its short-wave communication device more than sufficient enough for person-to-person communications over a short distance. Against creatures with no technology, she didn't have to worry about their communication protocols being hacked, or false orders being delivered. Small blessing; the platoon didn't have a communication officer who knew how to change the protocols if that had been the case, the _Sulaco_ being the support the Marine platoon needed for such cases. Shepard left the female dormitory, closing the door behind her as she turned into the Med Lab and walked through it, into the Ops Center. Apone was already there, as was Ripley, who must have been awake already. Shepard joined them behind Burke, looking up at the monitors.

"A push?" Shepard asked.

"I think so, but not a normal one." Apone answered, his brass voice quiet. "A small team came in over the North Gate door and immediately went to the walls and climbed them."

"Probing for different avenues of approach." Shepard answered, nodding. "West Gate still open?"

"Yes, and no movement on any other cameras or trackers." Burke confirmed, bringing up the schematic layout on the workstation, showing where the contacts had come up. "Just the North Gate."

"They know there's no defenses there." Shepard replied, her mind working fast despite still being groggy from being woken up, and the little sleep she had gotten. "Still getting that reconnaissance in. They're probing for access points."

"Is the roof of the colony secured?" Ripley asked, her grandmother's voice a little concerned, looking to Shepard.

"Standard construction doesn't allow for any type of access from the roof." Shepard replied. "Slavers, pirates, and smugglers would land right on top of the structure and blast their way in, bypassing many of a colony's defenses. Roof is as flat as an ice lake. They're not going to find anything." The woman let out a small sigh of relief, and Shepard didn't blame her. She didn't want any of the bugs getting in, either. "Air vents and maintenance vents use to go to the roofs, but they stopped doing that after Shanxi, when a Turian Orbital Drop Team would land on colonial buildings from drop-ships and blast through a vent or a weak point instead of the heavily-guarded doors with dozens of guns ready to shoot something turning a door knob."

"These bugs ain't dumb." Apone nodded, seeing the colony's roof tracker picking up the bugs' movement on the northern portion of the wall, a team of ten. The signal went slow as the aliens performed their sweep, probably in the same fashion as they had in the hallway. Ten wasn't enough to finish the roof in one pass. It would take them a while. "They should be up there for a while. Few hours, at least. Want to call Ferro in, blast them off?" The Gunny asked her.

"No." Shepard finally answered after some deliberation. "Shots and acid blood might create the access they need, something they can exploit. Let them look; there's nothing for them to find." They watched for several minutes as ten tracked signals scoured the roof top in a search pattern from one end to another, starting at the very end of the North End of the complex, going east to west. When they reached the end, the signals pinwheeled around and started searching the next portion, ten signals deep. The rate they were going, they would complete their search in a few hours. "Burke, what is the roof composed of? Iridium-reinforced steel, correct?"

"Let me double-check to be sure I'm right." The bureaucrat typed something up on the work stations haptic keyboard after bringing up another haptic screen from the viewer. His inquiry was answered. "Yes. Iridium-based steel alloy, density of about… 22.56 g/cm(^-3), and extremely resistance to corrosive elements." The mid-level executive turned and smiled. "Iridium is the most corrosive-resistant metal in the galaxy, and all our colony buildings are made of it to resist the many different environments of our various colonies. It can withstand about 2,000 degrees Celsius, and its a fifth the hardness of a diamond. We build these things withstand even orbital strikes with good results. Protected against even high-levels of solar and nuclear radioactive bombardment."

"So, the same as a Dreadnaught's plating?" Shepard asked, impressed. Guess Weyland-Yutani didn't skimp on the shell. "So they're not clawing their way in, nor are they burning their way in if they get smart and sacrifice one of themselves to use their acid as a weapon?"

"Precisely." Burke replied. "Finally something we did right."

"Still want to go out and wax the fuckers." Apone breathed out, his eyes only for the tracker.

"Agreed, but opening the garage is something I'm only going to do for an emergency or a great opportunity." Shepard pointed out. "That door takes too long to open and close for me to think that a few might not find their way in. We don't have any defenses down there yet, and any rounds fired might likely ricochet and destroy something we could use, or hit own of our own men. The reward of killing ten isn't worth the potential risk. If it were a hundred… that would be different." The Gunny nodded, either agreeing with her, or not being able to come up with an effective argument. "Besides, we'll see what happens when they scour the roof and find nothing. Probably start working on the walls. Perhaps completely sealing ourselves in wasn't the best conclusion. With the exception of the garage, we don't have a means of going out there and just being able to kill a few of them."

"No, still a good call, Jane." Apone jumped in immediately, his voice assured. "You blocked off every avenue of approach, and still left us an out through the garage with the APC _and_ the _Cheyenne_. Believe me, I've been in worse. This ain't my first lockdown, kiddo; what we got here beats the hell out of what we had against the Turians in Shanxi, and these things don't have guns. Shooting immediately at a visible bad guy is all well and good, but sometimes, laying traps make an attack more effective." The Gunny explained, making Shepard slowly nod her head. "You're doing good, kid; take it from a lifer and a vet from the FCW, you're doing just fine."

* * *

Sleep eluded her, and lying on her bunk just made her more restless, so 2nd Lieutenant Jane Shepard got up and dressed, working her way from the female dormitory and gave a look into the Rec Room, finding it empty. It was only 0323, and most everybody was asleep save for who was on shift. It wasn't the dreams that haunted her, though Shepard didn't doubt that she'd have a healthy share of them the next time she closed her eyes. Think of the experiments down below ground was revolting beyond words. She knew that Lance Bishop was still working on a way to purge the ten test subjects without risking a lockdown or a contamination, but the work was slow. Weyland-Yutani had built their system well to prevent anyone from doing just that. Shepard went to one of the fridges to grab a sports drink when Ellen Ripley walked in, carrying a coffee mug, seemingly intent to grab something to nibble on.

"You're still up?" Ripley asked, surprised as she looked at Shepard. "I know you haven't had _that_ much sleep."

"Our last year in OCS, they make us do 20-hour days." Shepard explained as she pulled out a lemon-lime sports drink bottle, twisting the cap off. "Physical training, classes, homework, more physical training, more classes, more homework… sometimes those days felt like a blender." That had the woman snort, shaking her head. "Yet they told us why; it would be in preparation for days such as these. In war or action, our enemies wouldn't let us have these luxuries, so they drilled it into us where we _can_ be functional even without enough sleep. They trained our bodies and minds to be effective and efficient for as long as possible without driving us to suicide." Shepard recalled her last year at Annapolis, the Senior Year simply known as 'The Grinder'. "Only four out of ten Cadets make it to graduation. From what I understand, many of the ones that don't make it simply go to the Corporate side of the Alliance, still being highly-educated and having some discipline instilled in them."

"Can you tell me about it?" Ripley asked, curious as she took a seat at the table, straddling the bench. "I wonder if its changed much since I went to OCS in Annapolis."

"That's right, you were US Navy." Shepard remembered seeing that somewhere, a graduate of the year 2109. "I think the dormitories are the same. There's this brass plaque by the front door that says it was built in 2054. We probably shared the same classrooms, too." That had the woman chuckling, shaking her head as she pulled open an energy bar from its wrapper. "I graduated in the top percent of my class, coming in third in academics and fifth in physical. I busted my ass, studied a lot, and there wasn't a doubt in my mind what I wanted to do when the School Board asked me which Branch I wanted to go in. You should have seen the faces of all these Navy Captains on the School Board when one of their best students refused to be persuaded from being a Marine. If I had gone Navy, I'd probably be a fighter pilot now, and then a navigator in a couple of years. Probably in command of a ship within a decade. But that's not what I wanted to do."

"Why a Marine, may I ask?" Ripley was looking at her, and Shepard felt _something_ for the woman that was her grandmother, her last living family member. It was nice to have someone who was genuinely interested. "Parents were Navy, and you said your adopted father still is Navy. Did that have something to do with it?"

"A little." Shepard admitted sheepishly, taking a seat as well, sitting with her back against the table. "My mother was a Star of Terra winner; our highest honor. My Pop is an N7, the highest level of warrior. Both in the Navy. I wanted to prove myself in my own way, on my own path, to myself. David understood and supported me. He's actually my CO, if you can believe it." Shepard smiled sadly, thinking about her last request for rescue. "When an N7 asks for something, there's damn few that are going to turn him down."

"Your Alliance is okay with that?" Ripley asked, a little surprised. "We had this policy back in America about families in units. Came from the Sullivans; five brothers who served on the same ship back in World War II, and all of them died together when the ship was sunk. Sole Survivor Policy was what it was called."

"Pop's an N7; he does SpecOps missions." Shepard replied, shrugging her shoulders. "I'm a butterbar right out of OCS; I get to be told to speak only when spoken to."

"Not after this mission, you won't." Ripley replied with a smile, finishing her energy bar. "I remember a good deal of military history, Jane. Commanders who do what you're doing now get their names in history books, and probably studied in military colleges for Cadets to learn how to do it properly. Get us out of here alive, and I have a feeling your Pop's gonna have a SpecOps warrior for a daughter."

"Our little family of alien-killers." Shepard replied, making the woman chuckle. "Should be a motto; killing ET's since 2121. Have people try to do the math."

"Not exactly the type of legacy I was hoping for when I had your mother." Her grandmother pointed out, murmuring as she looked blankly at the wall. "What I really wanted was a family, Jane. House, kids, that kind of thing."

"Well, you could always spoil your favorite granddaughter with gifts." Shepard teased, making the woman smile. "I'm partial to firearms."

"Jarhead." Ripley smiled at her. "You… have anyone in your life?" The question took Shepard aback a little bit. Ripley wasn't trying to be invasive or prying, just being a woman who cared for what family she had left. It was something that she was unused to. David was a good man and a good father to her, but he never asked such questions, respecting her privacy as best a single father could do for his adoptive daughter. Having a woman family member in her life was… strange. Shepard couldn't remember if her mother ever talked to her like that when she was a kid, and concluded that she hadn't because she _was_ a kid. Would Mom have asked her such things during a voice call, during visits of shore leave, or in e-mails? Amanda Shepard had been as devoted a mother as she could have been being a single mother in the Alliance, and an Officer, too. Shepard believed she would have, but fate had taken that opportunity away. David was her Pop; her surrogate father. Perhaps with some time and effort, Ripley could be like a surrogate mother to her. The thought was somewhat comforting, if a little embarrassing.

"Sorry," Shepard apologized quickly, realizing she hadn't spoken for a moment or two, "I'm just not use to… this." She pointed back between the woman and herself. "Not that I mind! It's just… new to me. I grew up without a woman to call 'Mom', and I'm all you have left of Mom… Amanda. I know what you're doing is what you think is right, and I… I really do appreciate it. If I'm hesitant or embarrassed, it isn't because you're doing anything wrong, Ellen. I'm just… it's new to me."

"I understand." Ripley replied quietly.

"I don't really have anyone in my life." Shepard replied finally, feeling herself being a little embarrassed by the admission, and she found herself holding herself in a way that indicated it; holding her hands nervously together, toes digging into the floor, not really keeping eye contact with Ripley. "I… I never really had a serious relationship before, between all the ships that Pop would serve on, and then OCS. I guess… I got use to the military idea of, well…" _Gods, why am I talking about this!_ "I'm more use to seeing what sailors and Marines do when… well… when they're on shore leave, and quick deployments, and…" _Why does talking about this… hurt?_ "All I ever had were just little flings and… and…" Shepard felt herself tearing up, and she had to turn away, wiping at the tears that threatened to pour out of her eyes. _I don't want to lose her respect_, Shepard realized, knowing that what she was admitting to made her sound like some slut, each man a passing fancy. "Gods, I shouldn't have said anything." Shepard went to stand up, but was blocked by Ripley, who somehow got in front of her, looking at her with compassionate eyes, giving her a smile that said she cared, that she understood. The woman's hands went to Shepard's shoulders and brought her closer, and she felt her face going onto Ellen's abdomen, the woman's arms holding her maternally.

"When I was an employee of Weyland-Yutani," Ripley began, "I wasn't looking for anything more serious than just getting laid for a night or two with men who weren't interested in a relationship. And then I found out I was pregnant with Amanda." Shepard looked up, pulling away slightly from her 37 year old-looking grandmother that was actually 94. "Alex was a good man, and when he found out he was going to be the father of my child, he proposed to me. Just a causal fling, sure, but with the right man, and something I am more than proud of to admit, for I had the most beautiful girl for a daughter." Ripley was fighting tears, now. "She had the bluest eyes, like the Earth's skies, that no matter how bad things got, I would look at them and the pain would go away." Shepard found herself touched by the thought, remembering her mother's eyes for the first time in… forever. She always thought of them as pilot eyes; as clear as day, and like that of a hawk. "I look into your eyes Jane, and I see _her_ in them, that promise of a better future, of a better tomorrow. Even here, in the depths of this shithole, I can't help but look into your eyes and smile. We'll get through this, dear. We'll do it together."

"I… I would like that." Shepard nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. "I think… maybe just having someone I can talk to and trust is what I need. Isn't that what mother's are for?"

"Don't forget dating advice." Ripley countered, making Shepard groan.

"There is no way in hell I am telling you about whatever is going on right now in my love life." The Marine replied, standing up, miming Apone's brass tone and authority, making the woman chuckle. "You would tease me mercilessly about it."

"What? You mean with Burke?" The woman's eyebrow raised, and Shepard felt her jaw drop. _How the fuck did she know!_ "Please. I'm a woman, and we've got a nose for these things. I guess you're more use to sneaking around your Pop, and men are rather blind to such things. Just because I'm an older lady doesn't mean I've forgotten how I was like when I was a younger woman. I was Navy, remember? I had shore leaves and amusements, too." Shepard grumbled at that, not pleased with the fact that she had gotten caught. _By my own grandmother! How embarrassing!_ "What? Waiting for a lecture?" Ripley asked, amused. "Burke… isn't bad for a bureaucrat. Easy on the eyes. Probably has a nice apartment."

"The bed's pretty nice." Shepard let that one slip out by accident, and gasped as she did so, covering her mouth hurriedly as she felt her cheeks heat up. Ripley just laughed.

"Considering the Navy sleeper pod I slept in the _Sulaco_ was about as comforting as a cold stone floor, the thought of a real bed is tempting." Ripley replied with a twinkle in her eye and a quire of her eyebrows.

"Oh, Gods… my grandmother's a cougar."

* * *

MESSAGES RECEIVED

2nd Lieutenant Jane Shepard sat that the colony director's desk, her TOC shift in full swing as she nursed a coffee mug and a headache, the interrupted sleep pattern taking its toll on her. She had probably gotten six hours of sleep in the past two days, and little of it consecutive. She'd have to go to Corporal Dietrich and see if the Navy Corpsman had any sleeping aids in her medic bag. She was tired enough to crawl into bed with her Onyx armor on. She might just sleep with her weapons stowed on her!

Shepard opened up the colony's message board, finding five messages pending, waiting to be read. She opened up the earliest one, and found the subject line to be RE: TRANSPORTATION REQUIRED from an independent moving company called ALLIANCE EXPRESS (ALLEX).

_2LT Shepard,_

_We regret to inform you that…_

"Ugh!" Shepard closed the message, having already read several like it. So many regrets that no one could come save a platoon of stranded Marines because it was slightly inconvenient. She had half a mind to message Alliance Command to remind those companies that without the Marines or the Navy, their asses would be pirate play toys. The second message read RE: RETRIEVAL REQUIRED from UCB. Shepard had pretended to be a dig site for a University, and Burke had suggested his Alma Mater, Berkeley. She opened the message.

_Dear Mr. Burke,_

_We regret to inform you that…_

"Motherfuckers." Shepard closed that one, too. Burke had put his name on it, hoping that his history with the university would make it look like their being on LV 426 was legitimate and their need of retrieval necessity. Berkeley evidently had a good deal of digs and expeditions, and had contracts with flyers and retrievers out in the cosmos, and Burke had theorized that them detailing one of their ships shouldn't have been too complicated or expensive for them. The bureaucrat had been fairly positive that it would have been a likely bet for a pick-up. Guess Berkley didn't want to make the trip, either. The third message was from a mercenary company known as _Calvor_, which was a Turian bird. The thought of being picked-up by Turian mercs put a bad taste in her mouth, but desperate times called for desperate measures. If a Turian Bird of Prey dropped out of the sky with an opened ramp and friendly mandibles, she wouldn't turn them down. Shepard opened up the message RE: EMPLOYMENT OPPORTUNITY, PICK-UP.

_2__nd__ Lieutenant Shepard,_

_We regret to inform you that…_

"Ugh." Well, she shouldn't have been surprised; the Turians weren't off to their rescue. For the kind of money Burke had suggested, Shepard had been under the impression that one of the mercenary companies or 'private security firms' would have been interested, especially if it were a slow month for them. It wasn't like she was asking them to take over a base or kill anybody; just a simple drop-off and pick up in space! Closing the message, she looked at the fourth, from a group of smugglers that Burke had forwarded, someone who was use to this kind of thing, the mid-level executive had assure her. They were small-time, and probably dirtier than hell, but they would be perfect for simple snatch-and-grab of a platoon of Marines. She had already thought of some items around the colony to give them as reimbursement and payment. Shepard would hock things on G-Bay if she had to put up the money. What would Weyland-Yutani do about it? They already left them for dead! Shepard double-clicked on the message reading RE: RETRIEVAL OPPORTUNITY.

'_Jane';_

_We regret to inform you that…_

"Son of a bitch…" Shepard rested her head in her hands, using the table as a point for her elbows, her arms a bipod for her headache and frustration. _Smugglers_ wouldn't come for them? What was left? Flagging a Hierarchy ship? Call C-Sec? Alert the Counsel? Her options were growing more limited with each _regret_ the messages provided, offering no comfort or solstice while stuck on LV 426. Who would have imagined that in a day-and-age of faster-than-light space travel, they would be stuck on a _fucking_ moon, unable to fly away?

The last message was from Captain Anderson.

The sight of his address had her smiling, as she looked at the message line, RE: POP. Writing the message had been hard for her, but she had done it. It was for all of their sakes, from little Newt to her Marines. She would swallow pride and ask for a second helping if it meant getting her men off LV 426. Smiling, she opened the message, and found it to be a video file as oppose to a text message. That surprised her somewhat; video files were much larger, and had a much larger data cache to them. Such things could take time going through the communication relays, as oppose to the much smaller, much more reliable text files, which could be broadcast without delay or worries over overuse of bandwidth. She looked at the file size, and saw that it was a monster; over 200mb of file. That was… 20-30 minutes of video at a lower quality, and 5-7 at High Definition. Why would he have sent a video for such an urgent message, as oppose to a text with a simple reply?

Shepard opened the file, watching it buffer with a growing pit developing in her stomach.

"_Hey, Janey_…" The well-worn face of Captain David Edward Anderson came as the first several minutes buffered, a fifteen minute message for her. The backdrop was a ship's cabin, and the size of it suggested that he was in temp quarters on either a Corvette or a Frigate. He had gotten a ship! _"I got your message, but I'm unfortunately in the Attican right now, on some 'peacekeeping' mission with the Sirta Foundation, escorting around some pukes and suits who want to seal a corporate deal with one of the Traverse Governors. Luckily, you caught me in the mainstream extranet, and your message came fast, and you should get a return receipt in good time." _His dark face broke into a smile. _"My little girl, leading Marines. How I wish I could be there right now…"_ He let off a sigh, and looked at something off-camera for a quick moment. _"Just because I can't come get you right now doesn't mean I can't come get you. I got in contact with a good friend of mine that you know, Captain Royce Mason."_ Shepard did indeed know Captain Mason, a N7 Marine with a scarred face that made her a little frightened of him when she was younger, but called him 'Uncle' as she grew older. _"I got in touch with Royce about your situation, and he is working on things now from his end in the Exodus Cluster, trying to get a boat for retrieval. We are also on the prowl for the SSV _Sulaco_. What happened to you and your men _isn't_ suppose to happen, and the message from Director Harper was… disturbing at best. Corporate isn't allowed to interfere with on-going military operations. I've forwarded what you sent to me to Fleet Master Grissom. If there's anyone who will go head-to-head with those cocksuckers, it's Grissom. He'd do because you're 'Ripper' and 'Widowmaker's' daughter, plus the fact that he's been trying to cut the Corporate bonds into the Alliance for years. If what you've implied is true with Weyland-Yutani…" _her Pop sighed, rubbing his head, "_if this is true, this going to hurt us, badly. I want you to record _everything_. Every dirty record, every dirty note, every dirty snapshot. Distribute it to your men, to ghost server protocols, to media reporters… don't let this get buried, Janey. If some soulless bastard thinks they can get away with this shit and let us pay the price, I want you to remember who you swore your Oath to."_

"I haven't forgotten, Pop." Shepard whispered, knowing what Oath her Pop was talking about; it certainly wasn't the Alliance Oath.

"_Royce should have a message for you soon. Until then,"_ Anderson sighed,_ "bunker down. Do what you can to get you and your men out. There's a thousand pieces of great advice I could give you that probably won't fit your situation, but this one will fit them all; whatever you do, Janey, always stay true to the men and women who serve by your side, above all others. Even I cannot appreciate what you are going through right now, as I am not there. Stay true to them, and they will do the same, and you will make it through there together. I'm proud of you, Janey, and I know that I've told you a thousand times over how glad I am to have you as my daughter, but one more time will never hurt. You've become a fine woman and a fine Marine, and I know your mother and father would be just as proud of you as I am. Stay strong, stay smart, and stay ready. Do that for me, I… I do not want to bury my best friend's daughter, too." _Anderson looked like he was going to cry. _"I love you, Janey."_

MESSAGE ENDS

Shepard sat there, looking at the last image of the video where it ended, seeing her Pop's face. Seeing the remorse of how he couldn't be there, how he wanted to tell her to just be safe, knowing neither one of them could actually make that promise. They were warriors, and they would do what needed to be done. Pop didn't want her to die on some rock, just like she didn't want him to die on some black-bag mission, but both of them knew the risks of their chosen professions. Still, he said what he needed to say to her, and David, while not big on emotions, was a good and kind-hearted man. As much as she would have loved to have met her father John, she would not trade David Edward Anderson for anybody.

"Thank you, Pop."

* * *

The lines of the colony schematics began to blur for 2nd Lieutenant Jane Shepard as her shift slowly plodded towards its end, Warrant Officer Colette Ferro to replace her in about fifteen minutes or so. It wasn't soon enough for Shepards' liking; the Sleep Bug was hitting her with a vengeance, and she had to stand up or risk falling asleep on her shift. Coffee was no longer doing the trick, and she smoked three clove cigarettes in a row, getting that slightly sick feeling in her stomach from too high a nicotine content in her blood system. Gods, after this, she was probably going to have to go through some sort of cleansing routine to get all the excess calories and crap out from the colonial food supplies, as well as the Navy rations and whatever else crap they had scrounged from Hadley's Hope. She was a Marine, but Shepard would be damned if she let herself go, started getting flabby or weak. She'd bring up the idea of seeing if they could construct some sort of improvise gym, probably in the Med Lab. They had enough strange equipment that looked heavy enough for lifting. And a treadmill shouldn't be too hard to fabricate, right? It was one thing she loved doing since living on a planet full-time during OCS; running outside. Years aboard space ships had Shepard appreciate natural air and open spaces. Hell, she remember the first time she looked up at a building that was more than a few stories tall when she was a kid, she got vertigo and threw up all over the sidewalk. Thankfully, she didn't get planet-sickness again. How embarrassing.

"Geez, ma'am, you look like you're sleepwalking." Warrant Officer Colette Ferro walked into the Ops Center a moment later, and Shepard sighed in relief at the sight of the Navy pilot. "Those bags under your eyes look ready for the vacation of a lifetime; the nearest bed!"

"Too… tired… to be… snide." Shepard joked as she let the pilot take the seat of the colony director, effectively taking over. Shepard wished the woman a good evening as she walked through the Med Lab, passing by Hudson and Wierzbowski on guard duty, both of them playing cards to occupy themselves as they would be alerted by Ferro if needed. Thankfully, there were enough motion detectors on the colony that the Marines would have plenty of advance warning if the bugs came in any direction, and even if they somehow found a way through their blockade through some means they might have missed. They were simply a precaution, and it gave them a sense of purpose and duty as well, reminding them that they still had a job to do. Shepard nodded to them both, indicating for them to continue with their game as she walked by, heading back towards the female dormitory. She was about to enter into the door when she heard a noise further down the corridor, something that sounded like…

"Newt?" Shepard asked quietly, hearing a whimper from further down the segregated hallway, were there were a few other rooms available for 'privacy purposes'. She knew that Vasquez and Drake had taken the one across from the female dorm, going at it like a pair of horny teenagers on their off-shifts. As long as they kept it off-duty, Shepard wouldn't say a word. Perhaps she might want to think about looking into one of the other rooms, just to get a little tension and stress release… "Newt? Honey, where are you?" She walked down the short corridor that ended with a wall, which was why they picked it for the extra rooms; it was a dead end that the bugs couldn't get through. Shepard tried to pinpoint where the whimpering came from, remembering that Ripley was rooming right next to the female dorm with Hadley's Hope's only survivor. The eight year old had bonded with the woman well, and Ripley had fallen into the position of surrogate mother without any problems. It was a Godsend for both of them, honestly, and Shepard thought it was cute to see Ripley care for the child like it was her own. Shepard opened the door to Ripley's room quietly, seeing her grandmother asleep her her bunk, but Newt's was empty. Perhaps the girl had a nightmare, and didn't want to wake Ripley up. Shepard heard the whimper again, louder this time, and she was able to pinpoint it better; one of the last rooms had its door open, and a little bit of light was coming from it.

"Newt? Are you in here, honey?" Shepard approached the door slowly, trying to be polite. "It's Jane, sweetheart? Can I come in?" There was no reply, but the sound of the next whimper didn't sound like a child that was miserable; it sound like someone who was in distress.

Shepard pulled her M3 Predator off her left hip, and rounded the corner to stand inside the frame of the door, pistol at the ready.

It happened so fast, that she barely had time to figure out what was going on. In less than a second, Shepard's mind recognized only two facts before she was attacked. The first being that Rebecca Jorden was standing in the middle of the unused room. The second being that she was surrounded by three aliens.

And before she could do anything about it, Shepard was hit by a wave of blue light and energy, and pulled into the room, the door snapping close behind her.

* * *

A/N: Tune in next week! Oh, this isn't a movie serial? (Ahem)

Iridium really is an element, from the Platinum rare-earth family, and is incredibly dense and resistant to corrosive. More than ten percent the hardness of a diamond, Iridium can survive extreme temperatures, impacts, pressure, and warping. All this is true science… except for the part where I reinforced steel with Iridium. Iridium itself is quite rare, and making a structure like Hadley's Hope even with a thin layer of it on its structure would be astronomically expensive. But hey, this is sci-fi; do you have any idea how much dilithium crystals for Star Trek would cost?

There is indeed a policy in the American Military where family will not be in the same unit. I've personally seen cousins refused to serve together in the same platoon or even troop/company. The Sullivans were, in fact, five brothers serving on the USS Juneau during WWII, sunk by a Japanese submarine in the Battle of Guadacanal. Sadly, only three were killed immediately, one died the next day of his wounds on a raft, and the oldest finally gave in to imbibing salt water and grief, the Navy having not launched a rescue mission for something like ten days for the 100+ survivors of the Juneau. 10 survived… of 687.

I've realized that in making Shepard Ripley's granddaughter, I've kinda shunted Newt right out of the relationship, which I thought was rather touching for the movie. Newt was obviously Ripley's second chance at being a mother and an act of redemption. Shepard has kinda supplanted that, hasn't she? In truth, it's still happening, but as the story is in Shepard's POV, and she's running around saving the galaxy (well, the galaxy of LV 426), she hasn't seen it.

I've been trying to make Shepard more human, a person with character growth, as well as trials and tribulations. Her fears, her worries, her nightmares are all apart of that, as well as her becoming a leader and a relationship with Ripley. When we first see Shepard in ME 1, he/she is someone who has their shit together, on top of their game, and knows what they want. In this story, Shepard is basically a college graduate ready to tackle the world, knowledgeable but inexperienced. The insecurities and revelations I've been doing are to help mold her into the person we're more familiar with in the game, though the direction I will end up going will not her being the _same_ person. Though I ended up giving her something close to the Spacer origin (I don't think I'll have her born on the Kilimanjaro), I'm making up my own Shepard as I go, considering she is a survivor, and an adopted child for Captain Anderson.

I tried to make Anderson's message touching, like the last speech he had with Shepard on the Citadel. I originally slated for him with the rescue, but opted for someone else. Captain Royce Mason is an OC of mine from the Mass Effect: Battle Series, and I will be using him for this story.

And Anderson's best friend was John Shepard.

"Too… tired… to be… snide." - The Lone Wanderer, Fallout 3.

And I swear I am the king of asshole moments... like cliffhangers and dropping plot-twist anvils. Don't worry, I won't force you to pick red/blue/green at the end of this unless you're eating M&amp;M's. Then I suggest blue.


	13. Chapter 13: Semper Fidelis, Motherfucker

Disclaimer: BioWare owns Mass Effect. 20th Century Fox owns the _Alien_ franchise.

**LV 426, November 17, 2176**

2nd Lieutenant Jane Shepard was launched into the opposite wall, colliding with the unforgiving iridium-reinforced steel as she smacked into it at an uncomfortably high rate of speed, knocking the breath out of her as she crashed into the floor below her, letting out a series of hacking coughs as she struggled to get oxygen back into her body, the temporary paralysis of her diaphragm making it difficult for her to do. The room grew a bit fuzzy for a moment, with interesting strobes of light as Shepard struggled to get up, her head swimming momentarily as she slowly got onto her knees and elbows, letting out another series of coughs.

She was then thrown into the room's ceiling, hard, smashing into a ceiling grate with a loud clatter. Then she was left to fall the rest of the distance on the floor seven feet and ten inches below. Shepard fought off the urge to cry out in pain, everything in her body hurting from the multiple impacts as she still struggled to regain her breath. She tried to pick herself up off the floor, her limbs painfully uncooperative as she got one hand onto the floor, and did half of a push-up to elevate herself slightly.

And in her swimming vision, she saw a pair of booted feet in front of her.

"Relieve this barbarian of its weapons." The voice ordered, Shepard's hearing a little unfocused, the collisions having made her ears ring slightly. She hadn't noticed it before from the pain in her body, but hearing the voice seem mute and distorted; she recognized the condition. It explained the slightly spinning room and the lack of balance she was feeling. A rude hand pried the M7 Lancer off her back, and one of the booted feet flipped her over onto her back, making her groan from the force as another pair of hands relieved her of her M9 Tempest and her M3 Predator. Shepard looked up to see three faces looking down at her on the floor, and she knew that she was in for a world of trouble and pain.

"Well…" Shepard coughed, her throat feeling thick from her hacking, "if it isn't the carpetmunchers from Thessia." She smiled at them, blinking her eyes as three bluish faces gazed down at her, their eyes hard and merciless. "How're things in dyke-world, cuntnibblers?"

Shepard got about half-a-second preparation before she impacted against another wall, slamming her against its surface hard, and left to fall on the floor. Again.

The latest fling into the wall had her coughing again, and Shepard spat out a wad of bloody phlegm onto the floor below her, trying to get back up onto her knees and elbows. She didn't make it far as a foot went down onto her back, shoving itself onto her armor, and causing her to be pressed against the steel floor of the room. The Onyx armor prevented her from being crushed or having a boot heel grounded into her flesh, but it didn't stop her from being pushed against the floor, her face rubbed into her own bloody spit.

"Pull this savage up." The voice spoke again, its feminine tones ugly and authoritative. Two pairs of hands grabbed at her from under her armpits, and Shepard felt herself being lifted up by muscles and the slight use of biotics; she felt a little stab of vertigo when they lightened her mass just to pick her up. She did nothing to make the process easier for them, letting herself hang there limply as they raised her vertically, physically pushing her against a wall as a means of support as Shepard found herself looking at the three faces again. Staring at her with eyes that didn't suggest that she was going to be living much longer.

"When I ordered the triple-sister stripper combo," she began, "that was into something kinky, I wasn't expecting some BDSM shit."

Shepard was introduced into the wall on the opposite side of the room. Her head found it first.

Stars exploded in her vision, and it took her a while to realize that she was on the floor again, looking up at the ceiling. The lights swayed and rocked while the world roared in her ears, and Shepard found herself cough again. Each cough brought pain to her ribs, and she clutched at them momentarily, rotating to her left side, which seemed to hurt a little less than the other side. It seemed that everything radiated hot pain. Thank the Gods she wore her armor to her TOC shift; if she had been in her borrowed civilian clothes, she'd likely be dead by now. Shepard slowly craned her head upward, and saw Newt standing in the back corner of the room, quaking with fear, terrified. Her eyes were as wide as saucers, and they were looking right at her.

_Fucking blue whores… used a kid… as bait…_

Of course she fell for it; what human wouldn't? Shepard rolled onto her front slowly, her body protesting as the agony of her body reminded her of its delicate state as she got back on her elbows and knees. Sitting up felt like her back was made of popcorn, the way it popped and cracked. Actually, some of the pain went away. That was nice.

Then there was a hand at her throat, and it was pressing her against a wall.

Shepard grabbed the arm that was holding her as she felt her weight begin to lessen, biotics used to reduce her weight as the hand lifted her up the wall, a pair of cobalt blue eyes staring into her green ones, murderous intent apparent. Shepard struggled to free herself, trying to lift herself away from the hand by raising herself up by her hands on the forearm that she gripped. The heavy blue-and-white armor covering it wasn't one she immediately recognized, but then again, her vision was blurred and spinning; she was surprised to still be able to recognized that it was an Asari assaulting her. The fingers clutched at her throat, hard, cutting off her air, and Shepard struggled to breath, gulping at air with her windpipe constricted. Some was getting in, but not nearly enough as the stars came back and her vision began to darken and narrow.

She was dropped to the ground, and a series of coughs rattled her ribs. It felt like one of them were broken. Maybe all of them.

"Uncivilized swine." The Asari lamented, Shepard still cough up, blood dribbling past her lips and down her chin. "How your uncouth species discovered space-flight amazes me. I half-expected to find you creatures banging rocks together, hooting at each other and copulating in public."

"Naw, it's Tuesday." Shepard looked up, an idiotic grin on her face as she looked at the Asari, having trouble making out the difference between her sapphire-colored scaly skin and indigo face paint. "You should come by on Fridays. Wear a dress. Much easier to bend you over a couch and…"

Shepard's suggestion was interrupted by a good, hard punch to the jaw, snapping her head back. The ringing in her ears went up momentarily, as did the flashes of light and dizzying effect, and now there was a new source of pain; her entire head felt like the inside of a church bell ringing away. She sat back forward, groaning, trying to shake off the skull-ringing blow, and almost succeeded in throwing up from the action.

"Dumber than a Krogan. If at all possible." The Asari in heavy blue-and-white armor commented, sighing. "I tire of these games, imbecile! You are looking at your better! Have you not evolved enough to recognize that?" The Asari scoffed. "I live longer. I heal quicker. I have biotics. Yet you quip and you joke. What is it that makes you think you can rival me?"

"Bigger tits?" Shepard guessed, and she got another fist to her jaw, but on the other side. At least she was evened out, now. For some reason, despite the agonizing pain that she was in, she started to laugh. Not a small chuckle or a giggle, but a real laugh that made her throw her head back and let one out for all the room to hear. The three Asari looked at her as if she had gone made. "Can any of you explain why a race completely composed of women somehow possess the best dick-sucking lips of the galaxy?" The blow came so fast that Shepard didn't even have time to prepare for it, as she spat out some more blood right in front of her on the floor. Somehow, that didn't stop her. "I mean, it's not like _I_ can literally fuck _everything_." The next punch was more directed at her temple, and her vision careened into the spectacular, the stars returning with brightly flashing friends. Shepard never would have guessed that the blue girls had some punching power. It took a good deal of time to right herself after that. Her head was really hurting. Badly.

"Unbelievable." The Asari sighed, pulling out what looked to be some kind of handkerchief and wiping the blood off her gloved knuckles. Shepard could feel how raw and tender her face felt. Thankfully, the woman hadn't punched her in the eye or the nose. That would have complicated things. "You Earth beasts are completely unbelievable! How you weren't wiped out by the Turians on the first day is beyond me! Perhaps they felt it was too unfair a fight, taking on… barbaric savages with chemical propulsion engines and explosive-propelled rounds."

"Mistress, perhaps we should just forcemeld with the primitive, rip the knowledge from her mind." One of the other Asari spoke, and the words had Shepard's blood run cold; _forcemeld_? "I recognize the armor, it is merely one of its planets' grunts. Probably too stupid to be allowed to do anything else but guard a door. But she does have eyes, Mistress, and she may have seen something."

"Fine. Tear it from what ever it is that passes for a brain for this… _space monkey in a suit_." The Asari in the blue-and-white armor replied dismissively, turning her back and flipping her hand in Shepard's general direction. She tried to understand what was going on through the heavy haze of pain and the skull-ringing headache that seemed to be going from the left side of her head, to the right, and then back. _Forcemeld _and _rip it from her mind_ stood out pretty well, and Shepard tried remembering what she did know about the Asari during her once class of Extrasolar Species back in OCS. It was hard to think through all the pain, but she ticked off the major points quickly. Blue. All women. All biotics. Lived for a millennia. Advanced nervous systems…

_Advanced nervous systems capable of 'linking' with another's conscious, capable of sharing information, sensory inputs, memories…_

Fuck, they were interrogating her! But for what? Why? _She may have seen something…_ that was what the other blue bitch said. They think she knew something… about what? _C'mon, Jane, think!_ Shepard wracked her rattled and abused brain, trying to come up with an answer, going over why three Asari would be on LV 426 in the first place. There was only one real answer, in her mind, one thing that tied everything together with a nice ribbon and bow.

The fucking experiments. Somebody must have caught on.

The one that had suggested to forcemeld walked up towards Shepard as she knelt there on her knees, her body mostly uncooperative due to the pain and the injuries. Trying to move only flared up her injuries, gritting her teeth so she would wouldn't give the fucking aliens the satisfaction of hearing her distress. She saw through the haze the approaching Asari's hand glow blue, and she began to feel lighter, the sensation of vertigo causing her stomach to to a lazy flip-flop, almost making her throw up. Shepard was alarmed when she felt herself being lifted upward without the means of anyone picking her up, the Asari floating her upwards with pure biotics. The sensation wasn't painful, but her body protested the unnatural event as she found herself hoisted like a duffel bag towards the Asari-in-question. Her face was on line with the slightly shorter alien, her feet dragging on the ground as she was brought almost nose-to-nose with the blue Thessian, her armor quite different from the first ones'. This one seemed to be in lighter armor, an almost leather-looking garb that was lightweight and durable, with impact-resistant plates on the abdomen, breasts, and thighs. There was a jacket of sorts covering the torso, with more plates on the arms, opened up to reveal an ergonomically-designed pistol of the likes in which she had never seen before. Shepard grew quite uncomfortable when she realized what the Asari was.

One of the vaulted Huntress Commandos.

"Human," the Commando spoke to her, putting as much disgust in the name of her species as the Asari could muster, "I am going to forcemeld with you. I _hate_ the thought of having to enter that barely-evolved cerebellum of yours to get what we need, but it must be done. Since I hate it so, I am going to do it in the fastest, most complete way possible. It will not be gentle or pleasant for you, so for the sakes of whatever passes for your psyche and personality, I suggest you don't resist." Shepard's headache had lessen enough that she could see a little bit better as she got a better look at the Commando in front of her as her murky brown eyes began to rapidly grow dark, seemingly filling up with an inky color. Shepard had a pretty good idea what was about to happen next.

_OhFuckOhFuckOhFuck…_

"Embrace Eternity!

* * *

_The dream came again._

_2__nd__ Lieutenant Jane Shepard found herself in the atmospheric processing station, specifically in Sub-Level 3. It took her a quick moment to orient herself to where she was, as well to do a quick check of her surroundings. She was in her Onyx armor, which seemed completely undamaged, and her weapons had returned. Pulling at her M7 Lancer, she armed herself as she did a slow spin around, orienting herself._

_She stood right in the middle of the hive, right in the middle of her nightmares._

"_Fucking blue-skinned whore." Shepard murmured, seeing the bodies of the colonists suspended on the pipes and supports of the processing station, the hardened resin that the bugs somehow secreted coating almost every surface, making the station a scene of macabre horror. The colonists, Shepard noted, weren't dead; all of their heads were up, their eyes cognitive, and every single one of them were looking at her, the accusations in their faces easy to tell. Each of them moaned in pain and agony as their voices raised in a hellish crescendo, blaming her for being left to die. Shepard looked again, and realized that this wasn't her nightmare, the terror from before not gripping as it had before. Was she conquering her fear, or was this a product of the Asari mindmeld? Either way, Shepard shouldered her Lancer and scanned her environment for some sign of what to expect._

_Her eye caught the sight of something running in the background, something moving laterally._

_Shepard had her Lancer out, aiming where she had seen the movement, something dark and sleek. At first, she thought it was a bug circling her position, but she realized that she was wrong. The movement didn't move quite as fast, and it certainly didn't run on all fours like an animal. She saw it again, off to her left, and her Assault Rifle went right towards the movement, but it had disappeared behind some thick support beams covered in resin._

_The Commando was in here with her._

_Shepard tried to remember everything she ever heard about the Asari Huntresses and Commandos, mostly from that same Extrasolar Species class back in Annapolis. Not only had they been taught about the biological differences in the species, their strengths and weaknesses, but also about their military tactics. Asari Huntresses and their Commandos were considered their elite soldiers, highly trained warriors that were efficient stalkers, setting up strikes, ambushes, and exploitation assaults. Lightly armored for faster movement and the ability to conceal themselves in an environment using some sort of Omnigel-created shell that patterned itself to its surrounding area. Weapons designed to harass and execute strikes from locations without exposing said warrior, usually strong enough to take out kinetic barriers quickly, and pierce through armor efficiently. And of course there were the biotics. While each Huntress and Commando had her strengths and weaknesses, Singularities and Barriers were almost always a given in their arsenal, with the possibility of Lift field, Throws, and Warp distortions a very likely scenario. _

_The Cadets had been told all this with an additional quote that had once come from a Krogan Battlemaster; that an Asari Huntress and Commando was the finest warrior in the galaxy, effective at both long and short ranges, and thankfully few in number. Nothing had been mentioned about a potential weakness._

I've got to fight like a Commando_, Shepard realized, looking to her own environment. The pipes, the darkness, the resin…_

…_The bodies!_

_If this were a dream, and it were her dream, Shepard went to the only one of the colonists she had actually seen; the teenaged girl. She found her quickly, knowing her exact location, and put her hands on the substance that held the girl suspended after placing her Lancer on her chest. As she suspected, the substand was stiff and unyielding. Good. Shepard began to climb, using the spider web-like substance as foot holds as she climbed over the accusing woman with her pleading eyes. _You're already dead_, Shepard though to herself, _I gave you mercy. Time to return the favor._ As she had suspected, the woman hadn't been flush with the piping that the resin had been coated with, leaving a gap between the teenaged girl and the secretion. It was this gap that Shepard slid herself into, concealing herself in the environment. It was, unfortunately, a tight and uncomfortable fit, and being right next to the teenager's moaning, struggling body was not pleasant at all. Still, her Lancer was available on her chest, and her Predator was comfortable in her left hand._

_She would have to think of herself as both prey and predator._

"_Okay, you Thessian bitch." Shepard murmured, looking at everything in the atmospheric complex, recognizing its details from when she was in there before. Yet there was an element missing. Something that wasn't in there from before. "Welcome to my fucking nightmare, cunt." Shepard closed her eyes, and imagined her worst terror, going for an action the Commando wouldn't suspect._

_She was going to level the playing field by adding that missing element._

_A series of hisses came through the complex, the sounds of the xenomorphs as they sensed a danger to their colony, ready to defend it with their lives. Shepard smiled as hisses and shrieks echoed through the complex, the bugs announcing their intent to kill the intruders. She didn't know how the whole mindmeld thing worked, but she suspected that she wouldn't be allowed to leave unless the Asari ended it. All Shepard had to do was make her nightmare worse, to the point that the Commando was forced to end it. _Resist, my ass_, Shepard smiled as the hissing grew closer, seemingly coming from all directions. _Bitch, you mindfucked the wrong Marine.

_Movement came from her right._

_Shepard stayed still, moving as little as possible as she saw a figure creeping out, staying low against the resin-covered flooring of the complex, almost blending in perfectly save for the movement that gave away the distortion of the Omnigel-created camouflage that concealed the figure of the Commando. It was a good system, and it took a moment for Shepard to realize that the Asari was wearing some sort of hood that would conceal her face as well. Shepard wondered how the bugs actually hunted; she never saw eyes, and their search patterns indicated that they were more reliant on smell and feel. Perhaps they hunted by odor, but things like metal and corridors didn't give any impression for them. The more Shepard thought about it, the more it made sense; the corridors had smelled of humans, giving them in idea where to go, but not any sense of where it led or what was at the end of the path. Yet here, in their colony, the bugs were in their domain; home field advantage._

_The figure hiding in the darkness seemed to note that fact as well._

_Shepard saw them, a swarm of xenomorphs, crawling on the pipes and walls of the processing complex, shrieking as they scurried over every surface. She recognized the tactic now; the search pattern of a well-coordinated team. It was hard to tell how many there were, but at least a hundred were coming out of every recess and shadow of the colony, the walls seemingly coming alive as bugs scurried over everything. The search pattern wasn't like the ones in the corridors of Hadley's Hope, where space was limited and only ten drones were sent. Here, it seemed to be that _hundreds_ were searching in a confusing pattern until Shepard finally recognized it for what it was; a three-dimensional search grid. Bugs were starting at the top and working their way down, covering as little horizontal ground as possible. This struck her as odd; if this were her dream, shouldn't it follow in a fashion _she_ would understand? She had never seen the xenomorphs search like this, so why were they doing so now? Was it a part of her fear?_

_Then it dawn on her; the Asari must know of the xenomorphs._

_It made sense, once Shepard saw it, seeing the Asari Commando lying on the ground _out in the open_, nowhere near a pipe or a structural support. It was possible the bugs would miss the Huntress where she laid, unlike if she had been in the corridor of the colony complex. Shepard, on the other hand, could be in danger as she looked up to see a bug traveling down the pipe the teenaged girl was connected to, coming straight for her. Shepard took her right hand to the girl's hair and pulled her head back, covering herself up as best she could, her Predator pointing at the strange alien as it crawled to her as graceful as a cat. Shepard held her breath as the alien crawled closer, its claws clacking against the resin and pip as it went over the pod where the teenaged human girl was, right over the Marine. It somehow hadn't found her… yet the search pattern she had seen in the corridors seemed so much more efficient…_

_Shepard knew right then that this wasn't strictly _her_ nightmare, but _theirs. _Fuck._

_The aliens continued to search, as the Commando laid in wait, thankfully not facing in a direction that the Thessian could easily see Shepard in her hidden position. The fact that Shepard could see _her_ was a miracle; just enough of a small gap between the resin, the holding slime, and the teenaged girl existed that gave enough of a slit to look through without it been too obtrusive. Or perhaps the Commando knew something she didn't; what would the bugs do if Shepard and the Commando decided to duke it out in a bug colony?_

_Shepard needed to turn the tables somehow._

_Her right hand slid towards the grenades that were attached to her equipment belt, grateful that they were somehow included into the nightmare. Perhaps it was her perception of herself; Shepard appeared as she wanted to appear in a strange situation, armored and prepared for battle. Regardless, the M68 disk grenade that slipped into the palm of her right hand, filled with high-explosives and set with three different detonation choices, was a comfort as Shepard thumbed the options; proximity, impact, and timed. She chose the timed option, and set it for ten seconds. Pressing and holding the activation button to prevent a cook-off, Shepard was going to have to do her best to toss a grenade without exposing herself, without being discovered, or throwing the grenade too close to hurt herself. With a subtle snap of her wrist, she tossed the grenade near the Commando's position, the Asari too far away for her to do some damage, but it would give the bugs something to think about._

_Ten seconds later, the grenade detonated._

_The result was immediate, the bugs went from a search to that of a seek-and-destroy mission; their search patten now included the ground. Shepard only hoped that the bugs trusted that ground already cleared would stay cleared, meaning that she would be in the clear, while the Huntress would not be. Bugs began streaming on the ground, quickly going over every square foot that they encountered in a well-coordinated team in a number that boggled Shepard's mind; there were simply hundreds of them._

_And they were getting closer to Shepard's prey._

_It was the Commando that cracked first, moving to engage the closest bug to her some four meters away, her weapon in motion. It had the look of a Krogan Striker Assault Rifle, normally illegal in Counsel Space, the weapon spitting out micro-explosives created by Omnigel and shot through the mass-accelerated chamber and barrel of the weapon. The first shot hit the creature dead center of its chest, and Shepard watch it explode, thrown back by the force, and noticed the acid spray of its blood was significantly lessened. Damn, _she_ needed one of those guns! The Commando stood from her position in a smooth motion, engaging two separate targets while she did so. Two more bugs met their end as the rest shrieked at the threat of their colony. The Asari was smooth, firing as she moved backwards, each shot a kill. When her weapon's overheat alarm rang out after eight shots, the Huntress locked back the bolt, slapped the weapon on her chest, and pulled out a strange-looking shotgun that was sleek-looking, and put more fire down range, its strange firing sound making it sound more like a warp weapon than a mass-acceleration weapon. The shots were equally as lethal as the Striker were, each shot punching a hole right through a bug, the spray of acid completely thrown backwards. Four shots and the shotgun overheated as the Asari locked the pump back, and switched it out for an angled pistol that fired blue orbs that exploded on contact; the Striker evidently had a little brother. Four shots into that, the Asari locked the pistol's slide back and went for a weapon that Shepard did recognize as the A-33 Ardat Submachine Gun. Three round bursts shot out of the small weapon, each burst killing a xenomorph. Shepard watched as the Commando moved towards the back of the complex towards the junction she hand her Marines had entered once, as effective a warrior as she had ever seen. The rate in which she fired, the way she switched out her weapons, how she moved… she was Shepard's superior, by far. Shepard studied how the Asari did it, intent to learn as the bugs scrambled towards the Commando, their numbers being thinned by the Thessian. Yet despite her superior weapons and tactical experience, the distance between xenomorph and Asari closed._

_The Asari glowed blue._

_The first bug was hit with what was commonly known as a throw strike, flinging the creature back into some of its brethren, knocking some of them down as a Singularity came next, a hanging orb of negative gravity pulling at several xenomorphs like a miniature black hole. The Huntress then launched another spat of biotics right at the singularity, and Shepard got to watch a biotic detonation for her first time outside of video; a titanic explosion of blue ethereal energy that tossed about a dozen bugs about as if hit with high-grade explosives or a small bomb. A good many others were stumbling or shaken by the explosion, and Shepard even flet herself being pushed back by the wave of overpressure from the acceleration of air and volume from the detonation. _

_Now she was seeing why Asari Commandos were feared._

_The Huntress was relentless, never staying still as she moved backwards, engaging xenomorphs at a speed and precision that the Marine could only dream at doing. Stryker Assault Rifle, Shotgun, Pistol, Ardat, Biotics, and back to the explosively-powerful Assault Rifle. There was a method to her abilities, undoubtedly honed by decades of practice and experience as the Asari danced out of striking range of the bugs, taking down their numbers single-handedly. Shepard remembered how she had gotten the highest kill-count of the platoon on the assault on the atmospheric station but only two, Drake and Vasquez having second and third due to their Marshal Smart Guns, yet she doubted that the three of them could kill as many as this lone Asari. The Commando was Death, Incarnate; a warrior in the true sense of the word. The bugs never stood a chance._

_And if she didn't strike soon, neither would she._

_Shepard extracted herself from her hiding position, it having served its purpose. Now that the Huntress was moving, their was no need for her to hide as she took out bug after bug with her available weapons. The xenomorphs weren't even paying attention to Shepard; she wasn't attacking them. Most of them were either in front of her or to where the Asari was going, deeper into the complex, currently taking up on a catwalk where it was almost impossible to flank her. Still, the bugs were trying, leaping from the walls in a feat of strength that impressed Shepard, trying to launch themselves as either a distraction, or hoping their acidic blood would do the trick. The Asari was making her stand from a superior position, her weapons too powerful, her tactics too well-versed, and her biotics the triumph card. The bugs were going to lose, the Commando using the environment to her advantage. Shepard fully extracted herself from the cocoon, taking a knee behind a pillar of resin and piping as she got a fixed bead on the Thessian, only 50 meters away._

_Shepard lifted her Lancer and fired a good long burst at the Asari._

_The alien had been caught unaware, focusing solely on the bugs, bringing them down as quickly as they could swarm on her. As strange as it seemed, Shepard aimed to help the bugs; the blue bitch was the reason she was here, and it was the blue bitch that was her enemy. Fifteen rounds from her Lancer burst forth right at the besieged Huntress, striking her kinetic barriers as the Asari was forced to defend herself from the new threat; Lieutenant Shepard herself. Her kinetic barriers died with a snap, having absorbed kiloJoules of impact from the Lancer's fire, several more making their way through, punching into the Asari's armor. The Thessian doubled over as about three round hit her torso, striking her impact-resistant plates designed to stop most small arms fire. One shot found a gap in her armor though as a spray of blue-purple blood splashed from her shoulder, and another on her upper left arm._

_The bugs howled at the smell of the blood, and descended upon her like sharks._

_The Commando continued to fight back, but the tables had been turned; she was injured, and critically so. Her right arm was slower, and her fire was less accurate, as the bugs grew closer quickly. The first one was on her in the matter of seconds, five of hits kin having died before it pounced on her like a leopard, its claws connecting with her shoulders, tackling her to the catwalk's flooring. The Asari drew her pistol left handed, blasting the alien away with a pulse of biotic energy with her right as she put a round in its curved skull. But the damage was done. She was prone on the ground, and unable to keep up her assault._

_Three more were on her in a flash._

_Shepard crotched and watched as she saw claws and spade-like takes strike with viper-like quickness, tearing at the Asari as she screamed in agonizing pain, the xenomorphs obviously tearing her apart. Only a single gunshot was heard for the finale…_

…And Shepard found herself opening her eyes to the colony room, where the Commando stood in front of her, her ebony eyes looking at her as her face went slack. The Asari shuddered once, and collapsed bonelessly in front of her and the other two Asari, hitting the ground with a thud, emitting not a sound. The Asari in the blue-and-white armor looked at the collapsed Huntress with surprised eyes. None of them needed to say it; the Commando was dead.

_One down, two to go,_ Shepard thought to herself as she lumbered into action, using the distraction to rise to the attack, her hands going for the blue-and-white armored Asari's throat.

* * *

Pain. It was everywhere in her body. It felt like her bones were made of broken glass, and her muscles rivers of fire. Having been slammed into walls and ceilings multiple times, not to mention taking a few good fists to the face, her body was protesting any type of action that didn't consist of laying in a Med Bed and resting. Yet she wasn't alone; there were still two more enemies in front of her, enemies that wanted her dead, and a little girl that was counting on her.

2nd Lieutenant Jane Shepard would die before she would lose.

She lurched into action, catching the blue-and-white armored Asari off-guard as her hands went to the unarmored neck of the blue-skinned alien, colliding her forehead into the Asari's nose with enough force to make a Krogan take notice, Shepard's headache sharply intensifying with the strike as the Asari cried out in pain, blue-purple blood gushing from her nostrils. Shepard's hands went to the Asari's crest and smashed the Asari's face into her rising right knee, cracking the Thessian's face into her armored knee cap. The blue-and-white armored alien fell to the ground, her nose broken and eyes swollen, apparently knocked out.

Shepard felt herself be thrown into a wall by use of biotics.

_No more of this magic bullshit,_ Shepard thought to herself as she bounced off the wall, having maintained herself on her feet as she rushed the last remaining Commando, smashing into her with a dropped shoulder, just like a force tackle in the EUCC. The Asari's breath went out with a whoosh as Shepard's shoulder went right where she hoped the Asari's diaphragm was, colliding the alien's body into a wall behind her. Stunned, the Huntress was powerless to stop Shepard as the Marine grabbed the Thessian's head with both hands, and smashed it into the steel wall with a yell. She smashed the Asari's skull against the iridium-reinforced steel again and again, blood beginning to splatter cumulatively against the surface until it was larger that the Asari's skull. Shepard checked the back of the Huntress's skull, and saw that the crest had been pounded into a concave curve, blood and ichor leaking from the large intention of the Commando's skull. Shepard let the Thessian drop to the floor, dead, as she turned back to the alien in blue-and-white armor.

"You… fucking… _monkey_!" The Asari cried out as she stood, pinching her nose as she manipulated it back into place with an audible crackle, her eyes watering when she set her nose as she stared at Shepard. "You killed two of my sisters!"

"One more, and I get a free large fry." Shepard smiled as she threw herself into the Thessian, colliding with her as Asari glowed biotic blue, the Marine knowing that any distance from the Asari would easily have her losing. Shepard smashed into the blue-skinned alien, thrusting her back against a wall, and felt a fist hitting her jaw once more, almost making her black out from the force. Asari were physically smaller and weaker… how the hell was the bitch punching so hard? Shepard returned the strike with her own, rocking her elbow right into the Asari's temple with a crack. She then returned with a pimp slap, striking the Thessian across the face with the back of her hand, letting the armored knuckles of her Onyx's glove putting some extra damage into it, the blue-and-white armored alien crying out in indignation as she struck Shepard in her belly with her fist, only some of the force penetrating through the Marines' armor. Shepard returned with a one-two combo to the ribs, hitting the short ribs of the Asari right above where her waist tapered down into its hourglass curve. She had taken boxing in Annapolis, and knew that strikes to the ribs who impede the breathing process. She then followed up with a short uppercut to the Asari's chin, twisting her body to put more force with the extreme short range of their bodies, their armors practically grinding into one another's. The punch dazed the Asari, her eyes slamming shut as her head snapped back, disorienting her. Shepard took advantage of the situation by spinning the Asari around to where the alien was facing away from her, and slipped her armored forearm under the Thessian's chin, and started to strangle her.

"Just fucking die, you Godsdamned whore!" Shepard yelled out as she put both arms into the force of throttling the Asari to death, the blue-skinned alien's hands trying to pry the Marine's arm from around her neck. Shepard flexed her arm, tightening the vice-like grip against the soft tissues of the neck that covered the windpipe and vessels that led to the Asari's brain. The alien choked and struggled, her hands feeling and prying to relax the pressure on her throat as her feet kicked and flailed about in a desperate attempt to free herself. One of the Thessian's hands went for an attack, trying to punch Shepard in the face, succeeding in hitting the side of her head, but the Marine did her best to ignore the ringing strike, tightening her arm's grip even further, hearing the blue-skinned alien gurgle. "Choke on Death's cock, slut. _Semper Fidelis_, motherfucker!" Shepard seethed, using what was left of her strength to strangle the alien to death. Slowly, the feet began to kick out with less speed and force, barely twitching on the floor as the arms finally slid limply down to the Asari's side, the gargling, choking noises dying off. Shepard relaxed her arms, letting the alien fall to the floor, breathing heavily. Everything hurt so bad… yet she saw a decent metal desk light in the colonists' room, one with a hard, flat base. Shepard swiped the lamp, holding it by its stem, and proceeded to bash in the back of the Asari's head in three times, satisfied by the cracked skull that she wouldn't be waking up ever. Dropping the lamp, Shepard dropped to the floor from exhausting, feeling the room spin around her, the pain and exhaustion taking their toll.

"Lieutenant!" The sound of a little girl's voice had Shepard looking at Newt as she came to her, the only survivor of Hadley's Hope rushing to her side, apparently unharmed. "Lieutenant! You're hurt real bad!"

"Sure feels like it." Shepard admitted with a cough, the action causing everything to hurt intensely. "Do me a favor, honey? Go find somebody, and tell them to get Corpsman Dietrich and Gunny Apone for me? I think I'm going to… rest… for a… minute or two." Shepard could barely see Newt's face, something wrong with the lighting; had someone turned down the lights? Why was everything so dark? It was nice. Perhaps she would get some sleep, now…

* * *

A/N: I may not have actually said or implied this, but this Shepard is not exactly friendly with aliens. Not racist, per se, but Turian did kill her dad, and Batarians her mom. And she's in the military as a Marine. That's not going to leave you very endearing to ET's. Remember, this is still only nineteen years after the FCW.

And just who was the lead Asari in the heavy blue-and-white armor? Tune in next chapter.

For the forcemeld mind-trip, I likened it to Dragon Age's Fade, but more of a placescape of Shepard's psyche. Then I changed it to Freddie's little nightmare of horrors from Nightmare on Elm Street. Then a dollop of Inception. With a few rules from the Matrix.

The weapons that the Commando carries are the Stryker Assault Rifle, the Disciple Shotgun, the Acolyte Pistol, and my own creation, the A-33 Ardat Sub-machine gun.

EUCC - Earth's Urban Combat Competition, but I'm likening it to football. Probably an advanced version.

Shepard: 3 - Asari: 0


	14. Chapter 14: Brynhildr

Disclaimer: BioWare owns Mass Effect. 20th Century Fox owns the _Alien_ franchise.

**LV 426, November 18, 2176**

"Oh… _shit_."

2nd Lieutenant Jan Shepard woke up, feeling every painful joint in her body cry out to her. It felt like she had been ran over by a Krogan, and when her eyes finally adjusted to the lights overhead, she saw that she was in the Med Lab, in a Med Bed. There were several Medigel bandages and wraps on her, as well as a series of tubes piercing her skin, and some monitoring diodes stuck to various parts of her body. Dressed in the traditional cheap medical gown, Shepard groaned as the pain came in waves, making her almost nauseated. Gods, everything hurt bad…

"El-Tee! Oh shit! You're awake!"

Shepard turned to see Navy Corpsman Cynthia Dietrich standing by her bedside, surprise evident on her face. The Navy medic did a quick check on a piece of monitoring equipment that displayed her vitals, and then returned her attention to her. Dietrich was a pro; moving over to an IV tree to adjust some of the fluid bags and IV lines, her hands dancing on a haptic keyboard on one of the Med Bed's devices to make minute adjustments, and giving each of Shepard's bandages a quick look by lifting up their edges and peering at the wounds underneath. Shepard was surprised by the many bandages; she looked to have well over two dozen abrasions, cuts, and contusions. She felt like she had been chucked into a bowl and worked over with a beater.

"You know where you are?" Dietrich asked as she pulled out a small pin light, flashing it into one of her eyes after putting a finger on the skin of her cheek and lowering it to open up the lid.

"LV 426. Unless we got rescued." Shepard was hopeful, but Dietrich merely shook her head slightly, indicating that they hadn't. "How long was I out?"

"Fifteen hours, El-Tee." The Corpsman replied, taking the penlight away and facing her with a serious face. "Jane? You broke a lot of bones and lots a good deal of blood. The calcium regenerators and protein supplimentators have been working non-stop on you, as well as the stem-cell injectors we've been feeding you the whole time to make up for the damage." That didn't sound good. "You'll make a good recovery, and probably be back to kicking ass in a few weeks time… but that's time we don't have."

"No shit." Shepard sighed. "Just give me the run-down and the soonest I can be out of this bed. I am not leaving this rock on a fucking gurney."

"Okay, you asked." Dietrich's hands went up in a surrender motion as she pulled up a chair. "Top down, bottom up, least to worst, or bad news first?"

"Bad news first." Shepard replied, snorting. Thank the Gods the Corpsman had a sense of humor and good bedside manners. Right now, Shepard had neither.

"The concussion you sustained was pretty serious," Dietrich began, her voice sympathetic, "you actually cracked your skull in two places. And you tried breaking a wall with your face. You got a nice scar running from hairlike to cheek on the left side of your face for that." The Corpsman ran a gentle finger where a bandage was, indicating a vertical line that ran down Shepard's forehead to her eyebrow, and then continued on her cheekbone for a short distance. "That one will scar nicely. Very distinctive. I hope you weren't planning on entering any beauty pageants anytime soon in like… the rest of your life." That news hurt, though Shepard wasn't exactly flaunting that most men considered her quite pretty. "The concussion and swelling of the cerebral lining has gone down, so you're out of the woods, at least. Mr. Bishop was afraid we would have to go in to relieve pressure, and neither of us are exactly Medical Doctors."

"I'm hardheaded. I got it." Shepard replied, nodding, touching at the bandage that covered her forehead, and then her cheek. "Next?"

"Twenty-seven broken bones." Dietrich listed next. "Ribs, a shin, a femur, a forearm, most of your right knuckles, a hairline fracture in your jaw and your occipital bone… that's your cheek," the Corpsman identified when Shepard gave her and eyebrow of confusion, "a few metacarpals and carpal bones in your right hand, presumably from punching someone to death, and your sternum. You look like you got tossed about in that room like a wrecking ball. It looks like a Jackson Pollack splatter painting in there with the mosaic of red and blue all over the place."

"Bitches cheated. Couldn't take me on in a fair, straight fight." Shepard commented. That had the Corpsman smile.

"I know, I saw what you did with them. Even _if_ I were interested in trying to heal them, which I'm not," Dietrich clarified, "I doubt there was anything a team of medical professionals could do. You practically stamped a lamp's manufacturing label into the skull of one of those Asari. You fragmented a quarter of her skull, and about a third of her brain was pulverized. Very nice. The other one had her face touching the back of her skull. Her brain looks like a pancake."

"Good."

"You lost about a quarter of your blood, which is bad," Dietrich continued on, "from a various amount of cuts on your body. Most of them were from the shards of your armor…"

"_What!_"

"Yeah… they flung you about so bad, it shattered your armor and the pieces were stabbing you all over." Dietrich's face twitched into sympathy. "You've got an accumulated three hundred and twenty stitches ranging from head to toe. Thankfully, I am a fine hand at stitching, and none of the pieces required cutting you open to extract them. Your armor, however, is a total loss."

"_Shit!_" What the fuck was she going to fight in now? Shepard licked her dry lips, and saw Dietrich jerk her head towards a part of the Med Bay close to the entrance, and Shepard turned her head to look. Standing there on another IV tree, was a set of heavy armor meant for a female, colored blue-and-white, and unoccupied. "Wait! That was that last bitch's that I killed. The one who tossed me about like a play toy."

"Well, jokes' on her, that thing is close enough to your size as not to make much of a difference." Dietrich replied, smiling. "It wasn't damaged at all in the fighting, and it can be adjusted slightly for your extra two inches of height and bigger bustline."

"Told that bitch I had bigger tits." Shepard snorted, making the Corpsman giggle. "So I get to run around in her armor?"

"If you don't want it, I'll take it!" Dietrich interjected with a smile. "Hudson ran a diagnostic on it. It's Serrice Counsel-fabricated Heavy Armor, with kinetic armor plating for extra damage protection from small arms fire, and a shield regenerator modification that none of us have ever seen before. Pretty high-tech stuff." The Corpsman looked over to the armor, then to Shepard. "That armor cost a bundle. My guess, couple hundred thousand credits once you add in the mods." Shepard whistled at that; who paid that much for high-grade armor? Who had the credits floating around for it? She doubted most mercs could afford such a stack. "Her weapons are pretty damn high-grade, too. Yours, unfortunately, were smashed and broken. So you get dibs on the weaponry."

"Music to my ears." Shepard smiled, remembering what the Huntress was armed with. Who wouldn't want an assault rifle that shot explosive rounds? "Who'll get the rest? Distribute it evenly? Hold a raffle? Pick names out of a hat?"

"Well, by rights of conquest, they're yours." Dietrich shrugged, giving her a smirk. "Do with them what you want. But I'm pretty sure you'll have to wipe the drool stains Hicks left on one of the shotguns. He would be… quite appreciative if you gave him it."

"I bet he would." Shepard had a pretty good idea he would be _very_ appreciative. Would she do it friendly, or not. Her aching body gave her an indication that extracurricular activities might be off the table for a good amount of time. "How much longer will I be in the cooker, Doc? I haven't reached my genocidal quota for the day, yet."

"A few more hours, four tops." Dietrich told her with a smile. "It's still fairly early in the morning, so I can have someone make you some breakfast.

* * *

"Hold still, _chica!_" PFC Jeanette Vasquez lamented as the Squad Automatic Gunner helped 2nd Lieutenant Jane Shepard into the Serrice Counsel armor, the blue-and-white armor somewhat heavier and tighter than what she was use to as she stood there as Vasquez and Corporal Dietrich helped her into it. The pieces were configured differently than they were for the Onyx, and the connection points snapped into place at odd locations. The fitting, as Vasquez called it, was to put Shepard in the ill-sized armor before turning on its on-board VI to resize it marginally to her dimensions. They were the only ones in the Med Lab, Shepard stripped to nothing else save her black boxer briefs, her sports bra, and her black Underarmor shirt. "Geez, you squirm worse than my sister did in her prom dress."

"Now I'm trying to imagine you in a dress, Vas." Shepard replied, grunting as the Gunner and the Corpsman got the chest piece on finally with a snap. "Ugh. Little Jeanette during her _quinceanera_, in something pink and frilly." That had Dietrich laughing.

"Hey, I looked _amazing_ during my _quinceanera_." Vasquez boasted, tugging one of the bracers onto Shepard's arm, struggling to snap it into place. "You got some guns on you, El-Tee. And my dress wasn't pink. It was aquamarine."

"I noticed she didn't deny the 'frilly' part." The Navy Corpsman jumped in, making Vasquez scowl at her as Dietrich tried putting the other bracer on. "My prom dress was lavender, no frills, and _very_ form-fitting. My Dad's eyes damn near bugged out of his head when he saw it." Vasquez snorted at that. "What? When are you going to be hotter than prom? I rocked it with style." Vasquez merely commented with a _mmm-hmm_, as both women helped Shepard get into the armor's greaves. "What about you, ma'am? Ever got the boys drooling?"

"Please. My education came from 'academic online studies' done on a Navy Frigate and a Carrier." Shepard replied. "I didn't have a prom or a sweet sixteen. Instead, I went to military balls with an N7 for an adoptive father. 'Rocking with style' was not in the cards."

"Ouch. You missed out." The Gunner _tsked_, shaking her head. "My prom? I could have turned half the boys into carpeting, walked over 'em on the hopes I'd go with 'em. Only one guy ever won my heart, though. Asked to marry me and everything. Died on Caleston, fighting slavers." That had the Med Lab go silent as Shepard felt her greaves click into place. She was very much under the impression that Asari physiology was a lie; they may have had features _similar_ to humans, but wearing their stuff definitely discounted the thought. "How's it feel?"

"Like it's crushing my boobs and rubbing into my crotch the wrong way." Shepard replied with a wince. "Fucking dyke whores. You think the way they're all slutting it up in every club in the galaxy, this thing would just be some electrical tape on the nipples and a thong." That had both Dietrich and Vasquez laughing hard. The armor, now fully assembled, powered on, and Shepard slid the diagnostic visor onto her forehead, wincing slightly as it hit the bandage on her forehead. The visor's single haptic display accessed the armor's VI, showing a good handshake. "Okay, let's see if this was all for nothing. VI? Run initial user diagnostic." The visor showed an acknowledgement as the VI scanned the body that now wore the Serrice Counsel armor. It took only a moment for the scan to complete. "VI? Fit to measurements." Almost instantly, the several locations where the armor was too tight or too ill-fitting immediately relaxed as the armor adjusted itself, slightly moving the plates along the armor's impact-resistant base fabric by means of electrostatic discharge. Two minutes passed before everything was set into place, and the VI locked everything down, making the armor fit its new user. "VI? Voice code activation. User; Shepard, Jane Catherine. Password and voice recognition unlock," Shepard thought about it for a microsecond, "_Brynhildr_."

"That's a hell of a password." Vasquez slapped at Shepard's armor, giving it a once-over. "Not too bad, El-Tee. Some _mal-cula_ armor right there. That'll take a beating right there. What's a 'brine-hilder'?"

"A battle maiden of the Gods, a Valkyrie." Shepard answered, looking to the Gunner. "You did see the tattoo on my arm, right? That's the symbol of the Valkyrie, those who chose from the victorious dead who goes to the Halls of Valhalla to dine and feast with the Gods until Ragnarok, the very end of the world."

"Hmm. Looked like a blue angel wing with a circle around it." Vasquez commented, shrugging her shoulders. "Can't believe that _azul_ _puta_ didn't password lock her armor. Who puts up that kind of credit and doesn't lock her shit?"

"Someone who doesn't think they'll lose." Shepard responded, thinking. "The whole time, she was calling me a barbarian and a savage. I don't even think she called me a human the whole time, just demeaning words about being a primitive. I don't know if she bought this armor specifically for this mission, but I'm under the impression the other two Commandos deferred to her. One of them called her 'Mistress'." That had her thinking about what she knew, what she remembered as Vasquez and Dietrich stood in front of her. "Different armor. Called her Mistress. And I'm pretty sure they were here for the little shop of horrors in some way. Wanted to rip my mind away for whatever I had seen. Who the hell do you send for that? Something more than a Commando?" That hat the Navy Corpsman and the Squad Automatic Gunner looking at each other, uncomfortable; they were thinking the same thing she was. "VI?" Shepard called up, seeing the visor acknowledge her inquiry. "Identify previous user."

_Vasir, Tela, Special Tactics and Reconnaissance. _

"Oh, you have got to be fucking _shitting_ me…"

* * *

"SURPRISE!"

2nd Lieutenant Jane Shepard had gone walking into the Rec Room to find it converted into a small party, complete with a few meager decorations, the largest being a strip of bed sheet hanging from one of the walls saying 'Kick Ass, El-Tee!'. Everyone that wasn't on shift was in the Rec Room, Gunnery Sergeant Apone sating behind a make-shift bar, serving multiple colors of sports drinks in lieu of alcoholic beverages. She had walked in with her new armor on, and everyone shouted as she entered, springing up from make-shift hiding places as the Marines of her platoon began to applaud. Someone had actually made a cake that was shaped like an Asari's head, and covered in blue frosting, with 'X'ed out eyes to indicate she was dead. Shepard couldn't help but laugh. It was like she told Ripley… days ago? If Marines give you props for your kill count, then chances are, it was pretty impressive.

"You guys are the best." Shepard called out, getting some cheers from her platoon. "But I got to ask, who ended up baking the cake?" A choir of _Crowe!_ came out, and the Private was blushing at his seat at the table. "Tip? The cake is _perfect_." That had the Marine smile as a few of his squad mates gave him pats on the back. "Well, what are you guys waiting for? Eat up!" Plates were served, and Shepard had the honor of cutting slices of cake for her men, dicing up the Asari's face and handing it out. Chips and cookies from the larder were added to the cake, and the atmosphere was festive; it was almost as if everyone had forgotten that they were being besieged by strange aliens, stuck on a shitty mood, and she had probably been pretty close to dying. Shepard wondered how the Asari got here, or if anyone were coming. But for the moment, everyone was smiles and laughs, and that was enough. Cake was eaten while sports drinks were drank, and the tales told over the table were course and vulgar. Private Ricco Frost had just finished the joke about the Krogan and the Dalatrass that had everyone laughing out loud, and Shepard smiled, scratching at the bandage that was still on her forehead and cheek.

"Hey! Present time!" Apone called out, his brass voice heard above all others. "Dwayne? Go get the El-Tee her shiny new gun." Hicks mock-bowed as he stood from the table, pulling out an object that had been wrapped in old shirts and a jacket like a bad christmas present. She was touched by it regardless. She had to untie a few sleeves and unzip a zipper to open up the 'gift', and Shepard found herself looking at an assault rifle that looked expensive, powerful, and incredibly badass. She knew whose weapon it was, thanks to Dietrich; Tela Vasir's.

"Damn, this is a rifle." Shepard extended it to combat configuration, seeing the elegant curves, the ergonomic design, the ported vents, the way her hand seemed to fit on the handle and stock perfectly. This wasn't some generic run-to-the-mill weapon handed off to grunts. This wasn't even a top-of-the-line model that one could get a weapons stores with the proper licenses paid. This was a hand-crafted weapon, made custom to the user, and probably modded in the same fashion, too. Dietrich wasn't kidding; this thing had to cost a few hundred thousand credits. None of her Marines would ever lay their hands on such a weapon, and they were handing it to her. It truly was a gift. "Gods, I can't wait to see what this thing does to the bugs. It wasn't password locked? Biometric IdentChip?" She looked over to the Marines, most of them shaking their heads.

"I scanned it, and it came back negative, El-Tee." PFC Hudson spoke out. "We had to pull straws on who was going to test fire it in the garage after we built a mock range. Wiersbowski fired it without it blowing up or zapping him. No lock." Shepard shook her head; what arrogance! That Vasir would thought she'd never lose, and never even considered the possibility of her weapon being taken and used against her in the middle of battle. Who the hell would spend so much money on such amazing equipment, and leave it up to fate in such a way? It hadn't been some rich snob with more money than brains, thinking the most expensive weapon would be the best; Tela Vasir had been a Counsel Specter. She had earned her way there, and who knew how long she had been doing so, Asari living for so long? Beaten by a human, who now wore her armor and carried her rifle. Shepard snorted.

"Dumbass bitch." Shepard supplied, every Marine nodding their head in agreement. "I hear we got some other pretty toys to play with. I think we should divvy up what we got, spread it out. Seems such a shame to leave them to waste." That got hoots and cheers from her Marines as Shepard saw Apone start bringing out all the other weapons; six pistols, three shotguns, four submachine guns, three assault rifles, and even a sniper rifle. There was enough for every Marine to have one with some left over! Shepard felt her eyes graze over the weapons, amazed by what she was seeing. Each one of the weapons represented more money than she would earn in a few years in service, and all together, probably represented a few million credits worth of weaponry. "Who got the second highest kill count out of the riflemen? Gunners cheated." Private Drake and PFC Vasquez groaned at that. Shepard had the highest kill count, and she was pretty sure who was number two.

"Hicks. You get first pick." Apone called out, the hierarchy set. Corporal Hicks didn't even hesitate as he went for one of the shotguns, the one that Shepard had seen in her dream. The next to pick was Apone, who passed, letting Hudson pick next. No one was surprised when he took one of the Stryker assault rifles, howling with glee. _Great_, Shepard thought to herself, trying to imagine Hudson blasting away with a bomb gun. The kill count went through, leaving a few weapons left, mostly the pistols, a submachine gun, and the sniper rifle.

"Let's give the submachine gun to Ripper. Next alien she kills won't be with her teeth and an airlock." Shepard said, taking the Ardat in her hand. "Vas? Drake? You guys already got big guns, so go ahead and take a pistol each." The Gunners nodded, taking the pistols. Shepard took the remaining four pistols, locking them into the various hard points of her new armor, and the sniper rifle on her back, next to her new rifle. She had an idea what the assault rifle was; it had to be a Specter Gear Mark VII Assault Rifle. Not that she had ever seen one before save for a few bad pics, but she had seen the new Blasto movie where the jellyfish was armed with two. Shepard was just happy no one thought to look at it, to recognize it for what it was.

Because killing a Specter, even by accident, was an automatic life sentence in a C-Sec IsoCube, if another Specter didn't execute the perpetrator outright.

* * *

2nd Lieutenant Jane Shepard walked into the Ops Center for the first time in nearly three-quarters of a day, seeing Carter Burke manning the colony director's work station. As soon as she walked in, he stood from his seat, and he looked a little torn with indecision. Shepard could see that the man was genuinely concerned for her, and she wondered how he must have felt, seeing her on a Med Bed, as damaged as he was. She approached him, pulling up a chair, and indicated for him to sit down, which he did so.

"I'm surprise you weren't at the party." Shepard said, and it occurred to her that Bishop, Ripley, and Newt hadn't been present, either. Had they all taken over the shifts so that the Marines could throw her a party? It was touching. "Who did you cover down for?"

"Gunny Apone. We traded." Burke replied with a smile, the stubble on his normally smooth-shaven face indicating that he had probably been up for quite a while. "Jane? I… I'm really glad your okay. Seeing you hurt…" The bureaucrat went silent for a moment, and she could see his face run through a gamut of emotions, struggling with something. "Remember our conversation on the _Sulaco_, about the 'good' option?"

"I remember." Shepard replied quietly, remembering it indeed.

"I regret saying that now, for saying something so… flakey and manipulative." Carter seemed to be mulling something over. "Seeing you on that Med Bed, busted-up, touch-and-go for a while. I… I didn't take it well, Jane. I wanted to hold your hand and somehow promise that it was all going to be okay. I wanted to sit there until you woke up. But I knew you needed me here, working, keeping an eye out for your men. I…" the bureaucrat let off a little chuckle. "I think you've worn off on me."

"Gods forbid we have a good person in Corporate Office." Shepard lamented dramatically. "Stocks will plummet." That had the mid-level executive chuckle again, shaking his head.

"Truth is, Jane… I care for you." Burke told her, his voice serious as he looked at her right in the eyes. "I see how you are, how you push yourself, how you care for those around you. You do the things you believe in, and you don't look back. It's admirable, it's… it's something I find myself wishing I could do." The man looked down at his feet for a moment, contemplating. "What happened here? All these colonists? We told them that we would protect them. That if they worked our claims and brought us a profit, that we would care for them and see to their needs. Now every time I think of this place, all I can think of is… one of those things on my face, hanging on a wall, waiting for it to burst out of my chest." The bureaucrat visible shuddered with the thought. "I may not have caused this, Jane, but I am a part of it. No… more."

"I agree. We need to destroy this place." Shepard replied quietly, the mid-level executive nodding his head.

"To keep it out of everyone's hands; Corporations, the military… other aliens." Burke agreed, thinking the same way Shepard was.

"And then we nail the bastards responsible."

"That will be tricky." Burke sighed, running a hand over his hair. "Weyland-Yutani is very powerful, and have great lawyers. Corporate Court might make a show of prosecuting them, but the only ones who will be nailed will be you and me; the rest of the evidence will disappear, or be edited, or thrown out of court…" Shepard felt her gut tumble at the sound of that, the bureaucrat shrugging apologetically. "Seen it before. The Courts are in Corporate's pockets."

"Is there anyone else? Military? Media? I don't know… _Nationalists?_" Shepard asked, thinking of anyone who would go after one of the five largest conglomerates in the Alliance. Weyland-Yutani was a voting member of the Alliance Bloc, one of thirteen. Evidence of this place would hammer the Company, and while the other Corporations might descend on WYC like a shark smelling blood, they would still be facing a company that was extremely rich, had millions of employees, almost unlimited resources, and just about every other advantage on their side. Burke merely confirmed her thoughts by shaking his head sadly, dejected. She could tell that he wanted to do something, but saw the same dilemma; who was powerful enough to take on a Corporation?

"Then we go to the Counsel."

"Whoa! The _Counsel_?" Burke's head shot up, his tone completely taken aback. "As in the _Citadel_ Counsel? Jane, with information like that, that could put the Alliance at risk. Earth, even!"

"If we come forward, we can make agreements and deals." Shepard replied, mulling it over. "That is if _we _are the ones to come forward. If they find out through their own means, they'll let the Turians finish what they started in the FCW, and I don't think I need to remind you that we got off lucky and light because the Turians thought us some backwater, proto-spacefaring species with exactly _one _planet to our names, and content themselves with destroying Shanxi. They find out first, I think we'll be envious of the Krogan and the Rachni; at least they had the ability to defend themselves."

"Shit…" Burke rubbed his face, the sound of his stubble against his hand rasping as he looked to the monitor that still showed the trackers and cameras. "Destroying this place is a must, I agree. Nailing Welyand-Yutani should happen so as at least to prevent something like this occurring elsewhere. But if we go to anyone else with this information, someone's gonna start looking for it. Weyland-Yutani found it somewhere. Chances are, we spotlight it, someone else might go looking for it, too." Shepard concurred with the bureaucrat's point, and it was really valid. Weyland-Yutani might just be the only ones who knew of the xenomorphs, but waving data at the Counsel would mean that information may go to the Specters, the STG, C-Sec Intelligence Division, who knew where? Did she want _Batarians_ flying about, looking for bugs? These people deserved justice, but if endangering a potential million was a plausible risk, then she wouldn't go through with it. She didn't want to see these creatures on _any_ other celestial body.

Shepard remembered the Asari-induced dream.

"Burke, I think… I think some might be aware of them already." Shepard explained the dream the Commando had made, how the bugs were using tactics she had never seen before. True, it had been a nightmare, and nightmares could be creative, but Shepard's gut told her that it was the _Asari_ who had seen such a behavior. When the Huntress went on the offensive, she seemed to know the dangers of the bugs, fighting in a way to put as much distance as possible between them and herself. "Ripley did find that derelict ship 57 years ago, already crashed, and it had been here for some time. These things, they could already be in places, places that no one knows for sure. It only takes one transport, one merchant vessel, carrying a few eggs and a couple of drones. Hide in a forest, in some sewers, and you can have a colony in no time. I do not want to hear about these things springing up _anywhere_. Not a human planet. Not a Counsel planet. Not any planet in the galaxy."

"Okay… Okay." Burke sat back in his chair, thinking it over. "We'll gather all the data; colonial, mission, the experiments, everything that happened here. We put it on hard copy disks, and we take it to the Counsel. We can present it in a way that implicates Weyland-Yutani, and let their investigators do the paperwork of who knew what. You're right on that; the Corporation won't have any pull against the Counsel, and C-Sec will burrow deep and hard on their records. As soon as we leave here, we go to them direct. We need to tell the Counsel to hit WYC before they realized we've destroyed the place, left it, and start deleting information that makes it look like _our_ fault."

"You… you agree to this? This is your job, Carter. Your life." Shepard knew that somewhere in that corporate suit, there was a good man hiding in there. "You do this, you'll never work a boardroom again." That had the mid-level executive snort.

"I don't do this, and I'll never be able to look at the mirror again." Burke replied morosely. "I thought about this job was about making money, having nice things, being important. Seeing you on that Med Bed… I would have gratefully traded it all in for one real doctor, one moment of consciousness for you so I could tell you how… how I feel about you. I don't want to waste the opportunity I have now."

"I'm… I'm touched." Shepard replied, and she really was. Of all the men she had been with before, not one of them confessed to well… wanting to be with her on a more permanent basis. "I've never had a real relationship before. Kind of new to me."

"This is, too, though I've had relationships before, but not the kind that was healthy for _both_ parties, if you know what I mean." Burke told her, and she remembered what he had told her about Corporate women. "I'd like to take it nice and slow, do it right. This means something to me, and I want to do good on it. You… you deserve that."

"Thank you, Carter." Shepard stood and took Burke in her arms and held him close to her, feeling a new sense of affection for the man. She was about to ask a _lot_ out of him in the near future. She needed him by her side if they were going to do this right.

Earth depended on them. _Humanity_ depended on them.

* * *

2nd Lieutenant Jane Shepard sat on her first TOC duty since… well, since several shifts before tussling with a trio of Asari assassins. She had taken over Warrant Officer Ferro's shift, who had covered down for her when she was injured, as had Gunnery Sergeant Apone. Sitting at the colony director's chair, she opened up her e-mail account, and was surprised with a message from none other that Major Royce Mason, the N7 her Pop had asked to come to their rescue. She clicked on it.

_Janey,_

_Got a ship, and should be there tomorrow. Hope you don't mind flying coach with a couple of former browncoats. It does come with a Medical Doctor and cargo space big enough for a drop-ship and an APC. Handled the money for travel, but a donation of some food and generic equipment will help these boondockers out. They might be smugglers, but they're good folk. We'll be there with bells on._

_Royce_

"We got an exit strategy." Shepard smiled, a grin that hadn't felt so good in… who knew how long? _Someone is coming!_ She almost wanted to jump up and down and shout in joy. They would finally be leaving this Godsdamn mess!

But they had a mission to accomplish, and Jane pulled out her datapad, and began reading Ripley's notes once more, going into the details giving to her grandmother by Captain Tom Dallas and Navigator Joan Lambert, two of the crew members of the _Nostromo_ that entered a derelict ship.

Two targets. Two Queens.

"Fuckers are gonna get theirs. Soon." Shepard whispered to no one in particular, fully intending to close the book on LV 426 for good.

* * *

A/N: Two weeks into this story, and over 2,000 hits of random love and reads for all those interested in this story! Writing this is fun; the response make it spectacular! Thanks for the inspiration to all; you make this worth wild!

The injury list is pretty severe, and one thing that I actually didn't like about the Mass Effect games (like every other shooter save Metal Gear Solid 3) is that you are a bullet magnet that shrugs off injuries. Seriously, you get blasted all the time, wait a few seconds for the screen to clear up, and it's squishing time. I'm trying to make it where injuries are real. The Med Bed is basically an all-purpose medical apparatus meant for casualties, which has a variety of purposes of getting a warrior back on their feet in a short period of time. I may work more on this idea, to make it a little more realistic (not like the Med-Bays from the movie Elysium where it's a damn scanner and a ten second tanning session).

This whole time, I've been using the words 'Gods' for Shepard, as oppose to God or something else. Up until this chapter, I had no idea why, and decided to have her be Norse, and even explained the Paragon symbol as the Valkyrie symbol. Brynhildr is indeed a Valkyrie, condemned to live on Midgard in a castle surrounded by fire until rescued by a heroic warrior, who was Sigfried the Dragonslayer.

You would think that killing a Specter would be a life sentence or a death sentence since they are basically top cops and black ops rolled into one. Killing one for _any_ reason (as Lair Of The Shadow Broker let us know about dear old Tela's mercenary ideals that were actually practical, if not nice) should come with the ultimate price. Just how will Janey explain wearing a Specter's armor?

The cake idea, I thought, was perfect.

In _Aliens_, there is a deleted scene in Ripley's Rescue, where the captured Burke is cocooned in the atmospheric processing station, and explains that he can feel the embryo moving inside of him. It was cut due to the fact that he would still be facehugged in movie time. Ripley gives him a grenade to commit suicide with, which laters blocks her path after her retrieval of Newt, which was not cut and actually can still be seen in the movie if you know when to look for it (a random, unexplained explosion as she is leaving that knocks her about). This deleted scene can be seen in the Aliens Anthology Blu-Ray set, or you probably can hunt for it on YouTube if interested.

Browncoats? A couple of them? Hmmm…


	15. Chapter 15: Nos Morituri Te Salutant!

Disclaimer: BioWare owns Mass Effect. 20th Century Fox owns the _Alien_ franchise… and Firefly/Serenity.

**LV 426, November 18, 2176**

"_Lieutenant Shepard? Hailing Lieutenant Shepard? This is the Independent Merchant Freighter _Serenity_, please return."_

"Serenity? This is Lieutenant Shepard." 2nd Lieutenant Jane Shepard spoke into the colony director's microphone, sending a broadcast signal to the small blip that had entered into the Zeta Reticuli system some few minutes before. Thanks to time lag and light speed, the ship probably had been in the system for closer to twenty minutes, but space was big, and time was always a constant. "I read you five-by-five."

"_Oh, thank heavens. Mal! They're still alive down there!"_ The first voice, a male, called out, obviously on a desk microphone where every word that was said would be picked up in stereo.

"_Move over, Wash."_ Another male's voice came in, and for a moment, Shepard wished that they had video capabilities so she could see who she was talking to, see who was going to rescue them. _"Lieutenant? Captain Malcolm Reynolds. Call me Mal."_

"Jane." Shepard replied, surprised by the first name preference. She guessed she'd been in the military long enough with the last name basis that it sometimes felt strange to address others by their given names, especially ship captains, independent or not. She looked around the room, seeing most of the Marines standing in the Ops Center with her, having piled in when the colony's mid-range radar picked up the signal of another ship. No one knew what to expect, friendly or enemy. Frankly, there was nothing they could have done about it. "It's nice hearing another human voice out there in the black, Mal. We were getting lonely."

"_I heard. Your friend Royce has been pacing a _gorram_ trench in my boat, along with a crew of his N's watching. Might nervous up here with a squad of Spec-Ops purplebellies looking at me."_ Shepard had to snort at that; the Alliance hadn't worn that purple-colored armor for five or six years. Captain Royce Mason had said that the crew had a couple of browncoats; Nationalists fighting against the Alliance for independence. She guessed that Mal was one of those browncoats, and the captain, to boot.

"Well, look at it from my point-of-view, Mal; I'm stuck on a rock with an alien species that captured and impregnated some eight hundred colonists, and their babies are monsters." Shepard pointed out, and the radio went silent for a good moment.

"_Shun sheng duh gao wahn." _The Captain of the _Serenity_ replied, and Shepard almost had to laugh. _Holy testicle Tuesday? Really?_

"You know, for a browncoat, your Chinese is pretty good." That earned her a snort from over the radio. "Mal, I got a big favor to ask, and I think you're not going to like it much."

"_I rarely do._"

"When you get on station," Shepard began, "we're going to fly a UD-4 drop-ship with a GRZLY attached to its belly. There's going to be a few civilian personnel in it for evacuation, as well as the APC being filled to the gills with medical equipment, medical supplies, food and rations, some military equipment, some colony computers, stuff like that. The equipment's yours to do as you please; use, sell, trade, barter, I don't care. Vessels stay with the civilians. You're going to taxi them back to the Widow Relay, and right into the Citadel to drop them off. They have their orders, but I need you to deliver them. _Dohn-ma?_"

"_That part I understand, but what about you and your men, Jane?"_ Mal asked, his voice concerned. "_We're here to rescue you."_

"We're not leaving this pit until every single one of these critters are dead." Shepard told the Captain of the _Serenity_. "They're Rachni bad, and we don't need anyone accidentally picking them up, or some Corporation doing another science project. We ain't rabbiting until the job's done, Mal. We walk away with these things here still alive, they just show up somewhere else. _Wuo tian xia suo you de ren dou gai si._" She finished in International Chinese, _we damn everyone in the 'verse_. "They can't leave here, and we're going to make sure of that. Your job is to stay up in that sky, and pick up… pick up whomever's left." Shepard sighed at that; she hadn't lied to her platoon when she briefed them earlier that this would likely be a suicide mission.

"We're going to set the atmospheric processor reactor to critical and irradiate the whole place to hell-setting." Shepard continued to explain. "Our Science Officer did the math; everything will be dosed with about 10,000 Greys in seconds with an induced meltdown over a four hundred square kilometer area on this rock. We are literally going to atomitize this moon and kill everything organic on it." Somewhere on the radio, someone on the background said _Holy shit_, as undoubtedly everyone in the _Serenity_ realized that Shepard was about to release the worst nuclear ever in human history. "It will kill them all, and prevent anything from ever coming back here for about… a hundred thousand years or so. I don't think small."

"_I guess not."_ Mal breathed out. "_All you going in?"_

"Yes. I put it up to vote, and it was unanimous." Shepard replied, looking to her platoon, the 343 Mobile Infantry looking right back at her. "I've got the most badass squad of alien-killers right next to my side, and we're taking the long walk outside. We will go in and perform a cooling system shutdown, while setting the reactor to maximum output. Mr. Bishop did the math, and we should achieve meltdown in approximately an hour after the system's set to blow. We'll head out, and if we have the time, you pick us up. What type of ship you got?"

"_Firefly-Class. We can boogie if we need to."_ Mal answered.

"Shit, a Firefly? Why not fly a Trans-U or a Suvlako?" Shepard shook her head at the thought; a _Firefly_? Hell, she didn't even know those things could still run, as they started out with hyperdrives! "First thing we need to do is fly over the original crash site, and send in some kind of probe. We need to know everything that's in there, and if it's dead. It's about 50 klicks from our position, to the southwest. Then we go back and enter the atmospheric complex, hit the big red button, and run out."

"_Jane… that sounds an awful lot like a suicide mission."_ Mal intoned, his tone not pleased. "_You sure about this?"_

"Yes. Every one of us." Shepard answered, her voice quiet. "Hell, my Navy Warrant Officer and her Crew Chief are coming in just so we have more guns. Is… is Royce there?"

"_I'm here, 'gel."_ The sound of an Australian accent came over, and Shepard had to smile at it. "_I heard everything. I've got me a team of N's who don't mind doin' a bug hunt. Give me a few minutes to brief and arm ourselves, and you got eight shooters on your side._"

"As long as they know this is probably a one-way trip, Uncle. I'm not going to lie; this is Krogan-invading-Suen nasty. Dark, creepy, acid blood… these things are the worst-case scenario. We only got lucky last time we went in because we didn't go in shooting, and they didn't expect us to be hostile. This time, it's war."

"_Understood, Janey. I'll let me guys know. We'll be there in… two hours?_" Another voice was barely audible in the back, confirming it. "_We'll give you a call when we're near atmo, link-up and integrate. We'll do a flyby of that crashed ship site o' yours, shove a camera in there first." _The Australian went silent for a moment. "_Janey, you a big girl and all, but if your Pop finds me lettin' you run around like some Deathsquad member and get yourself killed, he's gonna have my head._"

"Thanks, Uncle." Shepard replied sarcastically. Gods, Special Forces types always thought the regular rank-and-file were less-than-adequate! "We'll hear from you soon, Royce."

* * *

Six hours had passed as 'night' for LV 426 came, Calampos blocking Zeta Reticuli, dropping the temperatures outside to near freezing. The Marines were taking naps before the _Serenity_ came back on station, having gone to check out the derelict ship that the _Nostromo_ encountered fifty-seven years before. 2nd Lieutenant Jane Shepard tried not to worry too much, a squad of eight N's didn't need some butterbar clogging their lines and thoughts with her incessant nagging and worries. Everyone was already locked and loaded, the APC filled to the brim with equipment and food from Hadley's Hope, and the _Cheyenne_ ready to fly in a few moments' time. Shepard had been surprised when Warrant Officer Ferro and Petty Officer 3rd Class Spunkmeyer both volunteered to go in. True, both were trained in SERE school and were qualified with their weapons, but this wasn't a Navy job. Yet Ferro had pointed out the obvious; they were going to need as many guns as possible to fight off the bugs, and who knew if two more wouldn't make the difference. Knowing that a team of N's would be coming in boosted morale significantly, and most of the Marines had been using the make-shift range in the Garage to practice with their weapons. Shepard had done so as well, finding the Specter Mark VII to be an incredible weapon. It was almost an equal to the Marshal that PFC Vasquez and Private Drake used, save that it was a third the size and weight of the Light Machine Gun. It also had ported vents, meaning that the heat sink was air-cooled through natural convection, meaning Shepard didn't have to lock back the bolt to dispense heat. Pulsing her fire at a sustained rate of fire showed her that she could get as much as seventy shots out of the assault rifle, more than double of the Lancer. It was also twice as powerful, too.

Shepard also spent the time maximizing and studying her new armor. The analytical visor she had used before was plugged in, and she studied what the armor's capabilities were. Simply put, the Serrice Counsel armor was amazing. Shield capacitors in the chest piece, asymmetric defense shoulder pads, stabilizers in the gauntlets, life support webbing in the greaves, upgraded shield batteries, enhanced armored plating, ablative coating, a shield recharger… she was a tank. If she had her way, every member of her platoon would be wearing it. She adjusted the settings of everything in the armor to her preference, maximizing its power levels to the modifications she wished to have more priority; kinetic barriers would be practically worthless in a melee fight, and Shepard didn't doubt that the armor wouldn't even stand up to the bug's acidic blood.

She was ready for war.

Shepard slid from her bunk in the temporary female dormitory, and found herself walking towards where Bishop and Burke bunked in a small room, and knocked on the door. It opened a moment later, and she saw Cater Burke standing there, fully dressed, and a little surprised to see her.

"Jane. Is everything okay?" Burke asked, worried.

"Yes. For now." Shepard replied simply. "Can… can I come in?"

"Of course." Burke stood to the side of the door, letting Shepard walk in, having to angle herself slightly to get in through the doorframe with her bulkier armor. The bureaucrat closed the door behind her, and he looked at her for a moment, seemingly at a loss for words. "Jane, about this mission. I…"

"No words. Just hold me." Shepard told the man, slipping her head into his shoulder, and gently putting her arms around him, aware that she was still wearing her armor. Her head laying in the cup of his shoulder and neck, Shepard closed her eyes and let herself relax, breathing in the man's scent, hearing his breath come in and out as they held one another. Moments passed like this, and she felt… comfortable, at ease. She was about to step off on what looked to be a suicide mission, and all she wanted was to send what time she had left with those she cared for. She had already done so with Ripley earlier, her grandmother less-than-pleased, but giving her support none-the-less.

"You find a way to come back to me, okay." Burke murmured, kissing the top of her head as he brushed her hair back, his cheek resting against her forehead.

"Are you kidding me? If the bugs knew better, they'd be hightailing it out of there right now!" Shepard joked, but her heart wasn't in it, not really. She pulled away for a moment, and looked at Burke, really look at him. _I… I could learn to love this man._ Shepard decided, looking into his brown eyes. "First place we get? Sealy mattress and silk sheets. You spoiled me." That had the bureaucrat grin as she pulled him in for a kiss.

* * *

"_El-Tee? Got a phone call for you._"

"Thanks, Ripper." 2nd Lieutenant Jane Shepard held her Omnitools' wrist connector in her hand as she pulled off the small table that doubled as a night stand for Burke's bunk. Their lovemaking had been smooth and passionate, as oppose to their previous couplings, when it had merely been about lust and gratification. Shepard had found the difference not only appealing, but much more satisfying as well. "I'll… be there in a few minutes."

"_Tell Carter I got my eye on him."_ The connection closed before either she or Burke could respond to Ripley's comment.

"How the hell did she know?" Burke asked incredulously, surprise evident on his face as he laid there on the bunk, half covered with a sheet.

"She's 94 years old, I'm sure she's learned a thing or two." Shepard snorted, not about to tell the bureaucrat Ripley had figured them out already. "Just stay away from airlocks; she flushed out the last thing she didn't like." That had the mid-level executive chuckle as Shepard got out of the bed, finding her clothes quickly. Sports bra, boxer briefs, and Underarmor shirt went on quickly as she began pulling on her Serrice Counsel armor, slipping on the chest piece with ease as she tugged on the gauntlets and greaves in moments while Burke watched. "What?"

"Enjoying the view." Burke smiled, his tone playful.

"Chauvinist jackass." Shepard smiled back, blowing him a kiss. "Armor? _Brynhildr._ Engage connection." The armor responded by snapping together and adjusting for fit and mobility, run by the protocols she set for her own personal preferences. Within five seconds, the armor was ready for fighting in. "Damn, this really is nice armor. Feel like a Viking or a Scottish Berserker in it."

"I guess I should get dress, too; our ride is here, after all." Burke slid out of bed, and Shepard stopped him for a moment to give him another kiss. "Go. Save our hides, Jane." Shepard gave him a smile as she left the room and walked directly to the Ops Center. She passed be a few Marines of the 343 Mobile Infantry, some racked out in open spaces to catch as much sleep as possible while PFC Vasquez was touching up the personal graffiti on her Marshal Light Machine Gun, '_Adios_' written on its side. Drake had found a bar to do pull-up on while Petty Officer Spunkmeyer and Warrant Officer Ferro prepared their own gear, wearing Onyx armor and armed with two M4 Shuriken sub-machine pistols each and M3 Predators. Shepard walked into the the Ops Center where Ripley sat at the colony director's chair, Newt on her knee.

"Captain Mason's on the line, along with Captain Reynolds." Ripley told her, handing her the headset to talk to them. "You're going to want to hear this, and it isn't good news."

"When is it ever?" Shepard snorted as she put on the hands-free headset. "This is Lieutenant Shepard, go ahead."

"_Janey? Royce."_ The Australian's accent filled her ears, a voice she had known for some years now. _"We just got back from that ship of yours. Probed it like a cheap whore on a Friday night, and got nothin'."_ That wasn't good. _"So me and the boys went down for a looksee, give it the ole' eyeball. Nothin'."_

"You're shitting me." Shepard couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"_Not one egg, not one of your bugs, even that seat with the telescope thingie that Ripley described in her report was missin'. Whatever was here? Someone came in and swiped it all. Smash-and-grab."_

"FUCK!" Shepard slammed the palm of her hand into the colony director's table, feeling her anger boiling. "That had to have happened sometime during the attack on the colony. This whole Godsdamn thing was a cover-up!"

"_Jane, there's more."_ Captain Malcolm Reynolds' voice piped up, obviously standing next to the N7. _"While the N's were doing their thing, I did mine. We scanned around the area, and we found a landing site about a klick away. Not very old… but very big. The gravity is too much on this moon to do it, but I have seen its like before…_

"_Someone loaded a very large transport here and collected everything."_

"Big as in… how big, Mal?"

"_Honestly? Dreadnaut-sized output if you can land one on a rock with no gravity. But LV 426 is like 85% Earth gravity, I don't see how one could have done it."_ Mal replied. "_The scorch mark was huge. A kilometer around, easily."_

"Big enough for a colony, and everything one would need to contain it." Shepard finished, and she didn't need to see the others she was talking to to know that they were agreeing with her. "_Fuck_. Well, there's not much we can do about that now save stay on our original mission; to wipe out the atmospheric colony. When we reach the Counsel, we'll just have to include that with the dire fucking impression that someone needs to obliterate that ship and track every stop it's made." Shepard looked to Ripley, who nodded. "Uncle, how long until your men and join with us?"

"_Twenty minutes. Where we meeting you?_"

"Right outside the colony garage." Shepard answered. "Don't land, Mal. We'll cover the _Cheyenne's_ exit and meet the N team on the ground. Then we'll saddle up and walk right to the colony. Stay in contact with us, Mal, in case we need extraction. If I tell you to go… you leave."

"_Dohn."_ The Captain of the _Serenity_ replied simply. _Understood_.

"Then we'll meet you outside."

* * *

The rain splattered against everything hard as the overcast skies of LV 426 showered the surface of the moon and everything on it with its greasy-feeling precipitation. 2nd Lieutenant Jane Shepard was already soaked as she watched the UD-4 _Cheyenne_ fly towards the _Serenity_ hovering half a klick in the sky while a team of eight N's descended from the sky by mean of Jump Belts, belts that would slow an assault from hitting the ground when jumping out of a vessel from the sky, or if need be, in shallow space. Watching the _Cheyenne_ leave, loaded up with its four civilians, had been a bit of a tearful moment, as many of the Marines had taken a liking to Newt, and Ripley gotten many a handshake from the members of the 343 Mobile Infantry. While Shepard hadn't said anything to Burke as he loaded in the APC, they had shared a look that was both a comfort and a promise. As Ripley inserted the UD-4 into the _Serenity's_ cargo bay, the team of eight N's hit the ground, being led by a man that had Shepard smiling as soon as she saw him walking up.

"You Aussie son of a bitch." Shepard called out to Captain Royce Mason (N7), team leader of Team Dingo. The greeting was one she heard from her Pop, Captain Anderson many a times.

"The little firecracker finally went out and grew up on me." Royce smiled as they shook hands, grinning from ear-to-ear. "See you got your arse in a heap of trouble, Janey. Need your Uncle to wipe your nose and kick some bloke's arses?"

"Gods, I was ten!" Shepard cried out in admonishment, making the man laugh. "Let's do a quick name call and integration before we go through the grinder together."

"Your show, Janey." The N7 replied with an easy going smile as the rest of the N's approached her platoon.

"Team Dingo? Meet the 343 Mobile Infantry." Shepard called out, and began pointing out people. "We've got Gunnery Sergeant Al Apone, Navy Warrant Officer Colette Ferro, Petty Officer 2nd Class Daniel Spunkmeyer, Corporal Dwayne Hicks, Navy Corpsman Cynthia Dietrich, PFC Bill Hudson, PFC Jeanette Vasquez, Private Mark Drake, Private Ricco Frost, Private Tip Crowe, and Private Trevor Wierzboski." There were grunts of acknowledgements from the N team.

"Hell, I know Apone! Served under him… what, about 15 years ago?" The Australian looked over the dark-skinned Gunnery Sergeant. "I was just a little butterbar back then, too. Knee-high to a kangaroo."

"Still wiping the wet from behind your ears, sir." Apone smiled, his grin toothsome.

"Well, 343? This is Team Dingo. I'm Captain Royce Mason." It was his turn to point people out. "There's Master Chief Stacy Valentino, she's an N7 like me. Chief Petty Officer Sun Moon, she's an N5. Staff Sergeant Victor Krieg and Sergeant Oblong Ounda, they're both N4's, and Petty Officer, 2nd Class Valerie Hale, Keno Yosobi, and Sergeant Rita Vrataski make up my N3's, fresh out of the Villa."

"Shit. You just had to bring in Aunt Val, didn't you?" Shepard sighed as the Master Chief walked towards her and gave Shepard a great big bear hug, lifting her off the ground for a second.

"I turn around, and you got yourself some little yellow bars on your collar." Master Chief Stacy Valentino clucked the side of Shepard's chin in a friendly manner after she put her back down on the ground, the blonde woman smiling. "Little girl's all grown up, Royce. Now she came back with a bunch of boys. Marines, at that." That got a good chuckle from both groups, and Shepard felt herself blushing. Gods! Did they have to embarrass her in front of everyone! "Who would have thought the girl I had to teach how to put make-up on and how to use a…"

"_Aunt Val!_" Shepard shouted, mortified. She did not need a SpecOps warrior that she had idolized growing up with telling dirty stories about her youth. Both sides were cracking up now. Master Chief Valentino smiled, and traced the vertical bandage that ran from the left side of Shepard's hairline down to her left cheek, thankfully missing her eye. Stacy grimaced as her finger ran down the bandage. "Yeah, I tried breaking a wall with my face when a trio of Asari assassin's decided to use a child as bait. I bashed those bitch's skulls in."

"Good for you." Valentino smiled, the woman who was like a second mother to her before she went to OCS nodding. "Now, Momma Bear wants to put her foot up some ass. Royce's been telling me you got some sort of bug hunt?"

"Let's get in the garage and out of this rain." Shepard nodded. "I'll do a full brief and summery, there."

* * *

The brief was short, sweet, and to the point as 2nd Lieutenant Jane Shepard talked to the nineteen people in front of her, as well as whoever was listening in the bridge of the Independent Merchant Freighter _Serenity_, her throat-mike broadcasting. She had downloaded pictures to Team Dingo's Omnitools so they had visual references.

"The plan is this," Shepard talked, all eyes on her, all intent, and not one joke told, "we go in as two teams. Captain Mason will lead Team Dingo to Sub-Level 3, where the main colony and infestation is located. Your mission is to get their attention with lots and lots of gunfire and explosives." That had some hoots of enthusiasm. "I won't lie; there's something like 600 of these things in there, and they've changed the place into their home field. They crawl on walls and ceilings, can leap about ten meters forward, bite and claw, run about 40 kph, and have acid for blood. No kiss-and-tell with these guys." That had a couple of dark chuckles. "These are the drones or the warriors, and they are ran by the Queen, who communicates with them via pheromones just like ants back on Earth. She's the leader and the brain, the bitch-in-charge. You take her out, these things revert back to dumb animals that can still horde us and overrun us, but without tactics."

"And the other team?" That came from Sergeant Rita Vrataski, the N3 Japanese woman who somehow had a very large sword strapped to her back. Was the woman serious? The damn thing was almost as tall as she was!

"Team Valkyrie." Shepard answered, getting a snort from PFC Vasquez. "While Dingo is drawing the bugs to them, me and three others, Hicks, Hudson, and Vasquez, will be assaulting the first level in an attempt to reach the facility's main control room. Once we access it, we can break into the computer via remote with our Science Officer, Lance Bishop, who will corrupt the computer's safety measures. He will install a VI-driven worm virus into the system that will shut off the cooling system while increasing the power output from the fusion reactor. He will do it so that there will be a meltdown of catastrophic magnitude in sixty minutes. The resulting release of radiation form the core meltdown will practically melt all organic material within an hour or two, and will spread throughout the moon within the day. 24 hours after meltdown, there will not be a piece of organic _anything_ that won't be lethally dosed with alpha particles and practically cooked from the inside out. This moon will be dead."

"Fuckin' A, man!" PFC Hudson called out, smiling. "Nuke 'em and let God sort 'em out!" That got some cheering and high-fives from the 343, and even some of the N's smiled at that. Sometimes Hudson's mouth was a hand grenade, but this time it got them pumped, and for that, Shepard smiled at the interruption instead of getting a headache.

"For now, we walk to the atmo station." Shepard continued, looking at everyone at once. "It's two klicks over hellish terrain, and bugs may be out. They may attack us, probe us, or let us walk right into the front door for a nice trap. Since we lack any type of space-to-surface weapons or a kinetic strike option, the only way we can be sure they're all dead is by walking into their house and fucking them up. Ripper will be providing air support and radio relay on our move, and Captain Reynolds will be flying over head for quick pick-up, but for the most part, this is a grunts-and-guns operation. No back-up, no reinforcements, no Naval presence. Today, we are like the Marines of old on the sands of Iwo Jima or Tripoli, with iron of our shot and the steel in our spines. Today, we find the thing that bumps in the night and give it a nice kick in the teeth. Today, _nos morituri, te salutant!_"

"For those who are about to die, we salute you!" Shouted every one of the SpecOps warriors, Shepard knowing that the Villa in Rio de Janeiro had that very sign hanging over its entrance, as told to her by her Pop. It was the the ancient gladiator salute given in the arena before battle, those warriors of old hailing the Caesars.

"_Semper Fidelis, Semper Fortis, Semper Anticus!_"

"Always faithful! Always brave! Always forward!" Returned her platoon of Marines, reciting the motto of the System Alliance Marine Corps. Everyone was ready; she could see it in their eyes and read it in their faces. There was no turning back now.

"_Heghlu'meh qaq jajvam_." Shepard said with a smile, making Royce groan.

"Seriously? Klingon?" That got a few snickers as Shepard winked and spun her forefinger in the air, indicating for everyone to round up as she walked towards the garage door, hitting the opening mechanism that would expose them to LV 426 and whatever lurked out on its terrain. Corporal Hicks and PFC Hudson already had their trackers up, as well as Chief Moon and Petty Officer Hale, all four of them already scanning. Shepard pulled the Specter Mark VII assault rifle from her back, turning on the VI-driven on-board computer on it, and switching the weapon to a three-round burst with incendiary effect. She wished that her Marine's Lancers could do the same, seeing how effective they were when the Asari Commando had used her weapons in the dream. Dropping the visor over her left eye, she accessed her armor's simple radar, modulating it to pulse out once a second, and made a minor adjustment to recognize the shapes of her Marines and Team Dingo, changing their color scheme to blue; traditional friendlies. She then changed the setting for everything else to show up as red; traditional enemy. Thankfully, LV 426 boasted no indigenous life forms, so Shepard didn't have to worry about a squirrel or something else showing up as a potential threat. _Friendly… and enemy. The way it should be._

Indeed, today would be a good day to die.

"Okay, people," Shepard turned to face the nineteen people at her back, ready to enter into hell, "it's time to take the long walk."

* * *

Two kilometers wasn't far unless it was shitty terrain filled with an unexpected amount of hostiles. Then it was a damn long walk.

2nd Lieutenant Jane Shepard led the procession of twenty towards the atmospheric processing station of LV 426, the gigantic terraforming plant looming like a mountain front of them. Shepard led the single column of men and women for a variety of reasons; it was obvious that she had the best equipment, the best armor, and the best weapons out of everyone, N's included. Sure, Team Dingo had some badass weaponry with their N-only Saber Assault Rifles and Typhoons Light Machine Guns, Piranha and Crusader Shotguns, Eagle Pistols and Hurricane Submachine Guns, and one with a Valiant Sniper Rifle. Yet she knew the Mark VII out-classed their weapons, as did her Specter Gear Mark X Pistol and Serrice Counsel Titan Sniper Rifle. The Asari Arms A-33 Ardat Submachine Gun she had given to Ripley was now belted on her right hip, set to a 4-round burst with piercing effect. The Specter Pistol had its Harpoon Upgrade activated, a very illegal mod only allowed for Specters, being that the effect would have a round go right through a kinetic barrier, armor, flesh, and then right out the other side. The visor that Shepard now wore itself was a masterpiece, a top-of-the-line Kuwashii visor linked not only to the Serrice Counsel Heavy Armor, but to the weapons as well. It came with a system analyzer, a HUD radar, and even biometric feedback. Tela Vasir was a complete and utter moron, in Shepard's opinion, yet she wasn't going to knock it. With the kind of mission they were about to walk into, they were going to need every advantage they could get their hands on.

They were going to be outnumbered 30 to 1. At the very least.

"Visor? Switch to passive thermal, black-hot, with infrared overlay." Shepard told the on-board VI, the visor over her left eye now showing her a world of black and white, with every shade of grey in between. She turned to look at Captain Royce Mason right behind her, a black silhouette walking with a glow of body heat pulsing from the thermal light energy he gave off with whatever light reflected off of him. Such a layout could, theoretically, even see a person wearing tactical cloaks and mirror imagers to 'hide' themselves, unable to fool the laws of physics. _Damn, this visor really is badass!_ Shepard smiled as she faced forward, continuing their walk towards the atmo complex, the terrain of LV 426 crunching underneath the boots of her Heavy Armor. "Visor? Set HUD Radar overlay, 50% opaque, blue ranging, white numbers and text." A concentric circle appeared on the visor's holographic screen, showing her a 360 degree view of everything around her, the circle lines in blue, and a side number appearing, showing that the range was set at 50 meters. She could see it as well as _through _it, still able to look at the thermal black view that the visor gave her. She could see nineteen blue dots behind her, and an experimental pivot showed that the HUD Radar auto-correct with her movement, 'north' being wherever she faced. Damn thing came with a compass, too, as well as an option point overlay with range for waypoints and rally points if destinations were far or in confusing areas. _I fucking love this visor! Everyone should have one. Probably costs more than I make in a year._ Shepard shook her head ruefully. Tela Vasir was the biggest idiot in the galaxy! Blue bitch's loss was her gain. Still had to come up with a plausible excuse to explain why she was carrying Specter gear if anyone ever figured it out. That was for the flight back.

If any of them made it out.

The walk took thirty minutes, Shepard deliberately setting a nice easy pace for the approach towards the atmo complex, not wanting to strain anyone or spook any of the bugs that might be out in the open. Her Radar didn't pick up anything, and none of the Trackers were hitting up any movement, either. She didn't doubt that there was some surveillance on them right now, some bugs probably sniffing them out, an observation post of some sort. Why weren't they attacking? The Marines and the N's were out in the open, no defenses other than their guns and grenades.

_Big Momma fears us_, Shepard realized.

It made sense, now that she thought of it. She had been worried about the extrasolar-bugs, but they had been taken by Gods-know-who. The siege had turned to a waiting game, the bugs unable to find another point of attack, Shepard's trap too hard a nut for them to crack. The Queen was willing to out-wait them, to let them break and flood the thing with bugs. But without any more colonists, their numbers were finite. And then with the arrival of the _Serenity_ and the addition of the N's, Big Momma had to know something was up, but she probably didn't understand what it all meant. She might be smart, but she only had limited experience. The colonists had proved easy meat for her, and the last defense probably a joke. Yet when the 343 walked in, Shepard and her Marines weren't what she was expecting; they were battle-trained warriors, not the 'drones' she was use to from Hadley's Hope. Now something came from the sky and deposited more people, and Big Momma was playing it cool and safe, letting them walk right into the front door.

Traps, ambushes, murder holes, choke points… the atmospheric processing station was going to be a meat grinder for them.

"500 meters and closing to objective." Shepard announced as she looked at the front gate of the complex using the Mark VII's scope, its rangefinder very handy as it instantly lazed the door with its passive infrared laser. "Nothing on radar. Trackers?" A choir of _Negatives_ answered her question, her words reaching out not only to the platoon and the N's, but also to Ripley, who was flying overhead somewhere in the UD-4 _Cheyenne_, and to Captain Reynolds in the _Serenity_. She still couldn't believe how they had been left to die, the whole mission some sort of cover-up by WYC. _Bastards are gonna pay, _Shepard vowed, grinning at the thought of seeing some high-level suits getting slammed into an IsoCube for the rest of their natural lives. _Keep your mind on the mission, Jane!_ The complex loomed tall overhead, the processor sucking in the atmosphere through its many vents, spitting out breathable oxygen for human survivability. The effect made it look like it actually was touching the sky and Shepard gave it a glance, impressed with its actual size. Terraforming stations were some of the largest constructions in the galaxy save for space stations and Live Ships.

"We're here." Shepard called out as she reached the entrance ramp to the complex, concrete leading to the iridium-reinforced door. How had the bugs been getting in and out on the surface? The access door was closed. "Hudson? Access the door's computer, and make us an entrance."

"_Roger, El-tee. Moving up."_ The PFC's voice came over the radio as Shepard used her left hand to do a series of hand signals; line up, opposite ends, and Gunners forward. Team Dingo went to the right side of the wall next to the door while the 343 Mobile Infantry went to the left, Vasquez and Drake peeling off to stand with their M56 Marshal Light Machine Guns ready to fire upon anything that might be waiting for them on the other side. Staff Sergeant Kreig had his N7 Typhoon out, standing with the two Marine Gunners, his Light Machine Gun at the ready, too. It almost made Shepard wished there were a few bugs to squash on the other side…

"Door's opening! Pulling back!" Hudson called out, peeling away from the access point for the door as it slowly slid open upward, the PFC running back to the line of Marines, running right past Shepard as the door took fifteen seconds to open. _Shit, should I leave that open or not? Fifteen seconds could be the difference between life-and-death, but leaving it open means I need to leave someone for a rear guard in case the bugs decide to sit and wait for us, make a pincer attack._

"Royce? Should I leave the door open or closed?" Shepard ended up just asking. That's what N's were for, after all.

"_Leave it open, Janey._" The Captain replied. "_We got a security turret with us just for these kinds of situations._" That had Shepard let out a small breath of relief. "_Sun? Set up the Coax and input target as 'non-human'._"

"_Aye aye, Skipper."_ The Korean N5 replied, moving up, pulling a device off her back that didn't seem that large to Shepard as she stood just inside the door of the access ramp, the three Gunners keeping overwatch. Chief Petty Officer Sun Moon set the black flat device on the ground, and pressed a button on the top. To Shepard's surprise, the top opened into four segments, and immediately went downward, revealing the body of a M30 Hornet Medium Machine Gun, the barrel unattached. The for segments pushed the gun upward, making a quad-pod to elevate the gun to chest level, and Chief Moon quickly attached the barrel to the receiver. Once completed, she opened up the haptic display of the on-board VI and dialed in the settings, activating the security turret.

"Gods, it's a mini-Zeus!" Shepard exclaimed, looking right at the turret. The machine gun was the same, but the assembly was half the size, self-contained, and obviously meant to be portable. "That's some high-tech shit."

"_Says the chica_ _in Asari armor_." Vasquez called out from her position in front of the door, Drake's chuckle coming right over.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah…" Shepard waved off the Gunner and her comment. "Teams Valkyrie and Dingo, form inside!" Everyone pushed forward into the atmospheric station, weapons scanning the long, wide corridor meant for vehicular travel. "Remember, bugs like walls, ceilings, dark spots, and raping your mouth! Check everything twice with lights and eyeballs!" There was a few snickers as Hicks, Hudson, and Vasquez moved over with her, forming Team Valkyrie. To her surprise, Master Chief Stacy Valentino approached her, and Shepard wondered what her Auntie was going to say.

"Janey, you listen, and you listen good." The Master Chief growled in a way that only senior non-coms seemed able to do, enforcing the idea of _take this shit seriously_. "I did not spend a better part of your teenage years help raising you like the daughter I never got to have, 'cuz single dads don't get fifteen year old girls with hormones." Vasquez snorted at that, and Chief Valentino fixed a steely glare at the gunner, who wisely turned away, looking out back on LV 426. "You _do not_ get dead on this fuck-all backwater shithole in the middle of who-gives-a-rat-fuck, you hear me?" Her words were punctuated with a finger jabbing Shepard's chest piece to emphasize her soft growl. "I want to see you get your Captain bars, get married, pop out a few brats, go to N school, steal a ship and take a dump on a Batarian's head, not horizontal in some fucked-up ditch on whatever the hell the name of this place was. Acheron? Who cares." Valentino waved it off as if it were nothing. "Are we crystal?"

"Five-by-five, Master Chief." Shepard replied, equally as quiet. Of course, they both had throat-mikes on, and everyone heard.

"Good." The Master Chief smiled. "Go in, hit the big red button, and you get your ass out. No heroics or stupid shit; that fucked-up shit's for old broads like me and dumb-ass movie writers. Me and Royce will look after your platoon. You," another jab in the chest plate with her finger, "turn this place into a microwave so we can bug out and drink a bar dry." Valentino gave her another hug, fierce and tight. "Proud of you, kiddo. Me, Royce, David… we're all proud of you." The embrace ended, and Shepard watched as the Master Chief wiped away a tear. "Now, go be a good little girl and nuke this son of a bitch already? Momma Bears got a raging hard-on and something needs to die so I can get my wargasm on."

* * *

A/N: Yes, that _is_, in fact, the Serenity of Firefly fame. Who were you expecting?

And hoist up your panties, shit's about to go critical in the next few (and last) chapters!

Greys are the measurements of Alpha particles of radioactive exposure. 10 Greys in an hour is lethal, with symptoms exhibiting in as little less than an hour, and fatal in a day. A nuclear meltdown (such as Chernobyl and Fukushima Diiachi) are generally worse than nuclear weapons, as a bomb is immediate, while a nuclear core has exposed elements that will continue to 'work' after meltdown. Chernobyl to this day, 29 years later, is still lethal to work in the Exclusion Zone, and workers who repair the Sarcophagus can only work 5 hours a _month_. It is estimated that the initial explosion released some 400Gy/h, though no equipment existed at the plant to fully rate the release of radiation. Fukushima, hit by a tsunami as oppose to Russian ingenuity, only released about a tenth of its fissible materials thanks to employees that knew what they were doing, a SCRAM act, and some home-grown Japanese courage.

'This time, it's war' - Aliens poster tagline.

'Krogan-invading-Suen' - The home world of the Rachni, and homage to the Krogan invading the hostile world to end the threat.

I used a series of languages here, ranging from Chinese (which I don't know at all), Latin (middling at best), and even Klingon (seriously… who cares?). All translations provided by the Internet; the FireflyWikia, WikiLinks, and some half-ass website claiming to have Klingon-English translation.

'Heghlu'meH QaQ jajvam' is indeed Klingon, and quoted from none other than Khan Noonien Singh. Translation? 'Today is a good day to die.' KKHHAANN!

Almost everything about the armor and the weapons actually do come from the mods from ME 1, though the Serrice Counsel Armor itself is from ME 3, and the Kuwashii Visor as well. The weapons mods are pretty much the ammo types and add-ons, explained differently (like the incendiary effect of a round as oppose to… what, clicking the side of your gun for a fiery bullet icon?) I miss the hi-ex rounds that I use to put on the sniper rifle. It wasn't like that thing got more than one shot at a time anyhow.

Captain Royce Mason and Master Chief Stacy Valentino both come from my Mass Effect: Battle Series, both OC's. They wrote me and said they missed out on having some fun.

Sergeant Rita Vrataski 'Full Metal Bitch' belongs to All You Need Is Kill/Edge Of Tomorrow. I went for the movie adaption.


	16. Chapter 16: Hyperventilation

Disclaimer: BioWare owns Mass Effect. 20th Century Fox owns the _Alien_ franchise.

**WARNING:** This is what I like to call 'The Fight'. You know you've been waiting for this moment.

Dedicated to the late and great Leonard Nimoy, making smart sexy since 1966. You will be missed while you boldly go...

**LV 426, November 18, 2176**

"Hicks, take point with tracker! Hudson, tracker rear! Standard diamond formation, quarter pace." 2nd Lieutenant Jane Shepard called out to the members of Team Valkyrie, her orders ringing out true as she set herself on the left-hand side of the diamond formation, PFC Vasquez taking the right with her M56 Marshal Light Machine Gun out and ready, its Smart Tracking System operational. Shepard looked through her visor, and switched the visor's setting to Virtual Intelligence System, Reconnaissance, known as VISR, which highlighted everything she was seeing in a low-light vision enhancement setting, the visor's IFF highlighting humans in green, and any other moving target red. _So badass_, Shepard thought to herself, scanning Hicks in front of her, seeing him highlighted in green. Team Dingo, being led by Petty Officer 2nd Class Valerie Hale, the N3 leading with an Omnitool Tracker in one hand, and a N7 Saber in the other. Following her was Gunnery Sergeant Apone, softly giving her directions for the atmospheric station as they walked down the vehicle corridor, heading towards the door they had originally used to assault Sub-Level 3 over… two days ago? Had it only been that long? To Shepard, it felt like a lifetime of horror separated since then, and now they were walking back into that hellhole. To say that she was scared was an understatement; she could feel herself breathing harder than necessary, and by the sounds coming from over the radio's earpiece, she wasn't the only one who was fighting their own personal fear, walking back into a death trap knowingly.

"Take it easy on the pace, Hicks. We've got all the time in the world to walk into an ambush." Shepard told the Corporal, her words feeding to everyone's ears, giving them all the reminder. "Loose and easy. Just the way Frost likes 'em."

"_As long as you're buying, El-Tee_." Private Ricco Frost said, though his tone was tense. It was easy to tell that Frost was nervous. Before, they had no idea what they had been walking into when they first entered this place. With 600 or more bugs lurking in the shadows, that knowledge was fear, and fear was a mindkiller. It was palatable in the air, one that everyone could taste on their tongue and inhale like a perfume. This wasn't fighting Turians or Batarians, smacking around some slavers and pirates. This was an extermination, and this time, the bugs fought back.

_Take it easy, Jane_, Shepard thought to herself, trying to take deeper breaths to regulate her racing heart and calm her nervous stomach. Fear was an enemy as deadly as any other, making a shadow into the boogieman, turing a poodle in the dark into a Rottweiler, and turning armies of well-trained men into garbage in seconds. Shepard knew all about fear; the fear she felt looking out a viewport into the blackness of space, the nightmares that she had every night since she was eight, this Godsdamn shithole. Fear was almost like a friend, a lover caressing its tainted hands over her flesh and into her soul, beckoning dark thoughts and whispering dark words. Shepard had fought fear her entire life, and she wasn't about to lose now.

She absolutely refused to fail. She'd rather die than fail.

Corporal Hicks and Petty Officer 2nd Class Hale walked in line with one another on opposite sides of the vehicular corridor, some ten meter separation between the two Teams as they stalked their way towards the main access hatch for the maintenance walkways and catwalks, the door leading both Teams to their respective destinations. The only sounds that echoed through the corridor was the footfalls of the Marines and the N's, and the steady pulsing noise of the Tracker's scanning, the rhythmic 'thumping' of the Tracker only adding to the ominous feel that Shepard felt. Why couldn't whoever have made the damn thing silent until it detected contact? The noise was getting on her frayed nerves. Shepard fought once more to calm her nerves and heart by focusing on her breathing, trying to take steady breaths. _Fear is an enemy, Jane, an enemy that can win or lose._ She reminded herself once more, having to slow her pace to keep from getting out of formation. A quick look to Vasquez showed the Mexican woman sweating rather heavily, her eyes scanning everything twice, whether out of fear or reassurance, Shepard couldn't say. Even Hicks looked uneasy by the way he moved, his normal pace now short and choppy.

"_Nice and easy, people._" Apone's voice came over the radio, his brass tone soothing, fighting the fear, and Shepard could tell the difference that it made. His calm tone affected the others, the Marines trusting in their Gunnery Sergeant, a man who had seen more than all of them put together. "_Focus on the mission, and keep those fingers off the triggers until you see something worth shooting at."_ Shepard gulped herself a little bit, swallowing back her fear, fighting to keep it down, focusing on her armor's radar that told her that there were only nineteen blue dots to be found; all friendlies. _Focus on what you know_, Shepard reminded herself, feeling the fear ebb away a little bit, becoming more manageable. "_About 200 meters to the access hatch, nice and smooth. Trackers, you picking anything up?"_

"Negative." Came five voices; Hicks, Hudson, Moon, Hale and herself. There was an obvious snort that came over the radio.

"_Shit, Janey, your armor has a radar?_" That was Captain Royce Mason, his tone relaxed, beating back the pallor of fear.

"_That must have cost a pretty credit."_ Shepard was fairly certain that came from Sergeant Rita Vrataski, near the back of Team Dingo, her slight Japanese accent making her words clipped.

"Three hundred and twenty stitches, twenty-seven broken bones, and about four pints of blood." Shepard replied flippantly. "Oh yeah, and braining the blue dyke-bitch that owned it last. With a lamp."

"…_And people call me crazy for carrying a claymore._" The N3 replied, and there was an assortment of chuckles that came over the radio in response.

"_And that's the 'Full Metal Bitch' for ya'."_ Came Master Chief Stacy Valentino's voice, her drawl thick and on purpose. "_I watched her cleave a Batarian's skull down the middle with that fucker. Pretty glorious. I still want one."_

"Oh Gods, the 'Organ-Splitter' wants a cutting tool." Shepard piped up, remembering her Pops' nickname for Auntie Val. Now that she thought about it, she wasn't even sure why Val was called that. Shepard was pretty sure it was probably something gross.

"_Heh, even Royce doesn't call me that no more."_

"_Now I'm interested. Why do they call you the Organ Splitter?"_ Apone asked, his tone curious.

"_It involved a Friday night bar hop involving some drunken guys who couldn't take 'no' for an answer and my teeth."_ Shepard could literally hear every guy wince at the description, obviously able to put two-and-two together and get… ewww… no wonder she didn't know. Hell, she was a woman and the thought made her wince.

"_Maldecir_." Vasquez shook her head, chuckling. "That's hardcore, _abuela_."

"Okay, ladies." Shepard rolled her eyes, trying not to snort out loud. "I don't think I want to hear any more."

"Sorry for offending your sensibilities, El-Tee." Vasquez quipped, her tone playful as she mimed a subservient tone. "Forgot that you're probably still a virgin."

"_WHAT?_" Shepard's jaw dropped as she wiped her head around to looked at Vasquez, the Gunner blowing her a kiss and giving her a wink, mouthing the words '_gotcha_'.

"_Please! Do you know how many times me and Royce had to hunt her down and pull her away from some muscle-bound meathead? Put a sixteen year old girl with nothing to do in a starship filled with sailors and Marines, and…_"

"VAL!" Shepard could feel her cheeks exploding with heat, the blush coming fast and strong as everyone laughed at her. And like that, the fear was gone. No longer was she panting and breathing hard, every shadow a potential threat. Laughter and jokes had chased the doom and gloom away as everyone was in the mood for laughter. For that, Shepard would suffer a little embarrassment. Fear, for the moment, had been conquered.

"Gunny, we're here." Petty Officer 2nd Class Valerie Hale called out, and Shepard realized that the access hatch to the maintenance corridors and catwalks was now right in front of them. She hadn't even noticed, though she had been paying attention to her surroundings and her radar. But all it took was one look at the hatch.

Fear had returned.

* * *

Team Dingo took the lead accessing the maintenance hatch as 2nd Lieutenant Jane Shepard had her Team Valkyrie wait outside in the vehicular corridor, letting Captain Royce Mason lead his extraction team in first. Since the main control room of the processing plant was closer to Shepard and her team, being on Level 1, Mason and Team Dingo would go to Sub-Level 3, getting the bug's attention. The whole concept of the mission was to give team Valkyrie the chance to overload the processing stations fusion reactor, to make it go critical. Dingo was just going to buy them time and attention in order to do so.

"_Alright, boondockers. Get ready to get your gaat on, cuz' we're goin' down a hole."_ Royce spoke up on his comm, Petty Officer 2nd Class Valerie Hale in lead with her Tracker, Gunnery Sergeant Apone right on her heels.

"_Keep your eyes peeled."_ Apone sounded off, his voice low. "_Bugs like to hide in corners and dark recesses. Don't be afraid to use your lights, and call out to someone if you can't see through it well enough. Just one of these bastards can take one of us down no sweat."_

"_Charming place."_ Said one of the N's, and by the accent, Shepard thought it was Chief Petty Officer Sun Moon.

"_Is it just me, or is it even hotter in here than last time?_" Private Crowe asked. "_My balls just feel gross right now_."

"No sense of tact what-so-ever." Shepard sighed, sharing a look with Hicks, who merely smiled and nodded. "Apone, we're going to investigate the first level and head to the main control center of the complex. We'll keep it slow to keep the attention off of us before you boys go off and have your fun."

"_That's a roger, El-Tee._" The Gunnery Sergeant replied. "_Happy hunting_."

"May your enemies die loud and fast." Vasquez snorted at that as Shepard tapped Hicks' shoulder twice, indicating for him to go. She was right behind him as they walked through the access hatch and onto the grating of the catwalk, their footfalls making the armor-to-metal sound as they moved. The sound seemed loud in Shepard's ears, every step an announcement of their violation of the bug's territory. Her heart was hammering in her chest, and Shepard had to work on her breathing as Hicks went down a corridor of catwalk framed by a variety of pipes and struts, making semi-walls and ceilings as the way was illuminated by strobing amber lights. Hicks' tracker continued to steadily '_thump_' twice every second, like a heartbeat going too fast, the pulse trying to detect any movement as the Corporal took it slow and easy. Shepard brought up his rear, her Mark VII set just to the right of him, ready to start blasting in case anything jumped out at them. In such tight quarters, her assault rife was the better choice than Vasquez's M56 Marshal, which might get stuck in the piping that ran up and down, or over the corridor. It was an industrial mess.

"Negative contacts so far." Shepard whispered, her throat-mike relaying her words to everyone in both her platoon and Team Dingo. "Royce?"

"_Nothin' so far."_ The Australian Captain replied just as quietly. "_No news is good news."_

"_Pendejo_ is gonna jinx us, man."Vasquez said from behind Shepard, her tone agitated. "I've got a bad feeling about this drop."

"Okay, Frost." Shepard looked back with a smile, making the Gunner snort. That was from back during their initial drop. "Remember PID. We don't know what the bugs are up to, and shooting at a glimmer of something might alert them all. Only fire if they seem aggressive or are moving towards us."

"Yeah. Nerves are just worked up." Vasquez rotated her shoulders in her sockets without letting go of her Marshal, the tension easy to see in her face. Shepard felt it, too.

"_Janey? We've reached the tunnel. Sending in two to scout ahead. Nice and smooth."_ Royce Mason told her, giving her an idea where Team Dingo was at.

"Roger, we're still moving down the central catwalk corridor, T-junction in seventy-five meters." Shepard replied, giving the N7 a quick sit-rep and their location as well. Hicks was still tracking, the rhythmic '_thumping_' of the Tracker still reading negative contacts. She wasn't sure if she was reassured by that or not. There should be over six hundred bugs here, but nothing was moving. True, it was a large processing plant, and perhaps they were in the actual hive, sleeping or guarding or whatever it was the bugs did with their spare time. Were they nocturnal? What did they eat? How long could a drone live? Those were all questions that would have been useful to know, except that the Weyland-Yutani Corporation hadn't been interested in such things, only seemingly on how to breed them with a variety of species, the differences in each, and how to contain them. All dire implications.

"_El-Tee? Drake._" The large Scandinavian man called out. "_Remember those pods in the first complex? They've burst open, and they're empty."_

"Shit." Shepard remembered them, picturing them in her mind's eye. The pods were of a significant size, maybe even big enough to fit a human in one in the fetal position. "Quick guess, Drake; how many pods do you see? How many are open?"

"_Lots." _The Squad Automatic Gunner replied immediately, though she could hear him counting softly. "_At least five dozen within twenty-five meters of my position, and those are just the ones I can see easily. I can definitely see more that are opened, but the infrastructure makes it hard to tell, plus it's pretty dark in here."_

"Gods… those weren't pods, those were chrysalises!" Shepard realized, feeling cold sweat breaking out over her skin. _Of course…_

"_Um, you might want to say that again, Janey._" Master Chief Valentino piped up. "_It just sounded like you said that those things are cocoons._"

"Yes. Next-stage maturity; the bugs have changed." Hicks stopped in front of her, and when he turned to look at her, his eyes were widened with fear. "The ones we saw before were the drones. New ones are going to be the warriors. Bigger. Faster. Stronger. Better."

"_Um. Well… shit."_ Apone swore softly. "_I recommend we take up a defensive position. This tunnel is as good a choke point as I've ever seen."_

"Agreed. Do it. We'll continue on." Shepard replied, her thoughts spinning hard. _How many have grown…?_ "Keep tracking, and set up a prox charge or two in the tunnel. Worse comes to worse, you can collapse it and pinch it off."

"_Roger, El-Tee. You take it slow and easy, now."_

"Yeah. No shit." She couldn't help the nervousness that was in her tone with her returned response. Whenever she took a breath, fear was breathing with her.

* * *

The rhythmic '_thumping_' of Corporal Hicks' Omnitool tracker filled the corridor as the footfalls of four Marines walked steadily down the darkened industrial catwalk, the pipes and support beams creating a pseudotunnel of steel as they stalked their way towards their destination. The corridor was ill-lit by the spinning amber lights overhead on the support beams, spread out in 10 meter intervals, and destroying what little night vision one might get from having the eyes adjust to such low-light occasions. 2nd Lieutenant Jane Shepard illuminated the way with the use of the taclight on her Mark VII Assault Rifle, dispelling the darkness as she investigated any hole or breach in the piping that was semi-large enough to fit a bug in as she followed in the footsteps of Corporal Dwayne Hicks, holding his Tracker up to scan for movement. The T-junction that they were heading for was only twenty meters in front of them, and closing slowly with the pace they were keeping.

"Left up on ahead." Shepard told Hicks when they reached the T-junction, the Corporal swinging his tracker left, then right, then left again, as if crossing a road.

"Nobody's home." Hicks sighed, and walked towards the left, another industrial catwalk that looked much the same as the last. "El-Tee? Mark this corridor, please? If we got to hustle, I don't want to be guessin'."

"Good call." Shepard cued up her 'tag' program on her Omnitool after putting her Mark VII on her chest like the Asari Commando had, and graffiti'ed an arrow point towards the exit. "Really spruces up the place, doesn't it?" Shepard joked, the tension in the air palatable. Hudson snorted as Vasquez shook her head, a small smile on her lips. She closed her Omnitool and pulled the Mark VII off of her chest. "Let's move out, Hicks. Apone?"

"_Go ahead, El-Tee._" Gunnery Sergeant Al Apone replied over the radio, his tone quiet, obviously not taking any chances deep in the bug's domain.

"We just turned left at the T-junction. We're in the clear so far, and moving towards the main control center." She relayed, giving him another sit-rep. "Two hundred meters to go, and then we go right. According to the schematics, it should be right there."

"Why couldn't they have built the damn thing by the front door, man?" Hudson asked, his voice strained and cracking.

"In case something went wrong and they need to manual turn off valves or SCRAM the reactor's core." Shepard replied, having actually looked it up earlier when Bishop was working on the contingency they were doing now. She had wondered while the main control facility seemed to be so near the heart of the plant as well, and had curiously investigated.

"SCRAM?" Vasquez asked, curious.

"Safety Control Rod Axe Man." Shepard answered, shrugging her shoulders. "I guess during early nuclear power, some poor guy's job was to cut the line on the rods with an axe."

"Yeesh." Hudson commented, shuttering. Shepard agreed; who the hell wanted to stand over a vat of nuclear material burning at several thousand degrees? History lesson done, Hicks grunted as he began walking down the corridor, Shepard at his back as usual. Her taclight illuminated the corridor, this one more clogged with pipes and struts to support them, the spinning amber lights giving Shepard a headache as they messed with her vision. People were suppose to work in these conditions? Where were the normal lights for illumination? She couldn't see some worker walking these corridors by the light of some construction bubble light. Thankfully, her visor limited the amount of annoyance of the bubble lights for her left eye, and her armor's radar still swept out its passive sweep. Shepard wasn't a hundred percent sure if it would be as effective in such a clogged mess of industrial construction, especially so confined, but it did bring a small sense of comfort to her as she listened to the rhythmic '_thumping_' of Hicks' tracker, Hudson's going in time with his at the rear. Vasquez, walking behind Shepard, was quietly speaking in Spanish, and it took a moment for Shepard to realize that the PFC was saying the Lord's Prayer. _Even tough, macho women need the Gods in their darkest hours_, Shepard thought to herself, nodding to Vasquez.

It took them ten minutes to go through the two hundred meter corridor, none of them risking going any faster to alert the bugs to their presence, Team Dingo having given two sit-reps during that time to let Shepard know that there was no movement and no sight of the bugs. At first it seemed a relief, but Shepard had her qualms; the bugs _had_ to know that they were here. What were they waiting for? For them to get in deeper? Those thoughts worried her deeply, and Shepard was afraid to find out the truth. If her worries were true, it would likely get them all killed. As long as they reached the main control center and set the reactor to overload, it was worth the risk. Leaving the aliens wasn't an option. The corridor turned to the right, and in front of them was a metal airlock-styled door, tagged 'Facility Operations' on its surface, as well as the warning 'Authorized Personnel Only'.

"Bishop? We're at the facility's main control center." Shepard announced, her feed going to the Alliance Science Officer back aboard the _Serenity_. "Accessing main door now." Shepard walked to the airlock's access computer, inputting the code that she had gotten from the colony director's work station, a simple 10-digit code that had the holographic lock turn from red to green, indicating the airlock was now available. It hissed open, sliding sideway to reveal a small room that was a quarantine from the control room and the rest of the facility. It wasn't very large, perhaps 100 square feet in total as the four of them slid into the room, Vasquez forced to stow her M56 Marshal into a vertical position against her chest to make them all fit at once.

"_Outer access door is closing." _The airlock's VI announced in a pleasant, feminine voice as the outer door slid back into place. "_Decontamination in progress. Estimated time to completion, one minute._" A bright strip of light moved over the ceiling from the back of the airlock room to the front, bombarding the four Marines with a mixture of weak gamma radiation mean to kill infections and diseases without causing cancer in human bodies. The mechanism swept from back to front six times, the hum of the gamma emitter droning through the airlock. The strip returned to its resting place when it was finished. "_Scanning for signs of bacterial infection and foreign matter. Estimated time to completion, ten seconds._" Several laser grids swept over the occupants as the airlock's scanners tried to detect any type of foreign matter that could compromise the safety of the facility. Shepard knew what the scanner was looking for; aliens such as Turians, Salarians, and the like. As for the bacterial infection, it was actually a deception to make the colonial workers feel better, to make them think they were being protected from illnesses. Sadly, the gamma radiation was only useful for a handful of diseases, and was worthless against someone who was already sick. At least she wouldn't be getting the cold anytime soon. "_Scan complete. No sign of foreign matter detected. Cycling inner door. Inner door opening._"

"Man, that thing is fucking annoying." Hudson said, shaking his head. "Reminds me of those light rail VI's on the pressure doors telling you to watch your step."

"I'm just glad I'm not claustrophobic." Shepard admitted, remembering her time in the life pod, unable to move or escape for five days. It had taken her years to get over the fear of being trapped in a tight spot, which wasn't exactly claustrophobia, just post traumatic stress. That, at least, was identifiable, reasonable, and explainable. Phobias, sadly, were still untreatable.

"_Inner door open. Welcome, Director Simpson."_ Shepard smirked at that, having used the colony director's passcode meant she had access to just about everything in the colony and the atmospheric processing station. That meant getting into the central mainframe of the control center for the complex wouldn't be an issue. The inner door opened, and Hicks did a quick scan of his tracker as Shepard stood immediately beside him, scanning the large room with her Mark VII and her taclight. A bank of servers and monitors decorated the walls, while the middle part of the room was dominated by a bank of tables with work stations on them, chairs set in front of them for the employees, all empty. Shepard checked every corner of the room, Vasquez right behind her with her M56 Marshal at the ready as they did a sweep, clearing the room of any sign of life or hostiles. It was clear.

"We're in." Shepard announced over the radio. "Control room clear. Will attempt to access station mainframe now."

"_Got it, Janey. All's quiet on the western front."_ Captain Royce Mason replied.

"_Ready for handshake and connection feed when you're ready, Lieutenant."_ Science Officer Lance Bishop added in.

"Acknowledged." Shepard went to what looked to be the lead engineer's work station for the control room, a singular table with its own work station set to the back of the room, facing the other work stations and the monitors much like a Navy vessel's commander would sit in a ship; one look to see everything at once. She sat in the engineers' chair after connecting her Mark VII on her armor's chest plate, and turned on the system. It took it a few moments to warm-up and boot-up, the VOS coming on-line with no issues. The haptic monitor appeared above the image projector, showing the desktop for the colony's atmospheric processing Virtual Operating System. "Bishop? I'm in. What next?"

"_Connect your Omnitool directly to the station's mainframe, and I'll take it from there."_ The Science Officer informed her. Shepard looked to the main database, and found the Omnitool access port. Activating her wrist-mounted Omnitool, she selected the 'remote connection' option before sliding the head of her 'tool into the port, seeing a green status bar pop up to show her the progress of the handshake. A few seconds later, a helpful chime indicated that the handshake was a success, and that connection had been established. "_Good work, Lieutenant. I'll take it from here."_

"Um, Bishop, do I got to stay here with my hand stuck in a computer until you're done?" Shepard asked, a little uncomfortable with the thought of losing any form of mobility.

"_Affirmative. I'm scanning the VOS now, and am going to write the program to integrate it with the drive worm that I'm going to signal to your Omnitool to down load. Process should take… ten minutes at least."_

"Motherfucker." Shepard sighed, sitting in the chair with her hand stuck in a processor, looking over at Hicks, who merely gave her a shrug that said 'what can you do'?

And then the audible '_ping_' of Hudson's tracker began to ring.

* * *

"Oh, _shit!_" PFC Hudson hissed as he held his Omnitool out, the '_ping_', '_ping_', '_ping_' of a contact detected ringing from the tracking device as the Marine looked at in, and then right at 2nd Lieutenant Jane Shepard, sitting there with her hand stuck in a computer. Hicks swore as he moved to match Hudson's signal, his tracker going off as well, the stereo sounds of '_pings_' filling the control room of the atmospheric processing complex. Shepard felt her one heart drop as she focused on her armor's radar, and saw three red dots populate the very edges of the HUD display, ranging at fifty meters. Then there were eight red dots. Twelve. Seventeen.

"Apone! We've got contact!" Shepard told Gunnery Sergeant Al Apone over the radio, her tone excitable, and not in a good way. "Seventeen at forty-five meters and closing. Correction… twenty-six contacts! Bearing in from the corridor! And I'm fucking stuck here!"

"_Hold on, El-Tee, we're going to make some noise, buy you some time."_ The Gunny replied. "_Frost? Blow charges."_ A few seconds later, even from their position, Shepard could hear the sound of explosives in the distance, muted by the size and clutter of the industrial complex. Shepard watched on her radar as the now thirty-seven contacts held position at a range of thirty-nine meters for about five seconds. She held her breath the entire time, praying to the Gods that it would be enough. _Fucking stuck here! _was the thought that kept ringing in her head, her breath coming in fast and hard, seeing how she was only about five meters from the airlock door, their only exit.

If the bugs breached it, she was a sitting dunk and too close for comfort.

"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon. Buy it!" PFC Vasquez breathed out forcefully, her eye on Hicks' tracker as she aimed her M56 Marshal right at the airlock door, ready for action. The '_pings_' of both trackers marked the time as ten contact noises marked the time from when they stood still until they moved next.

Thirty-eight meters and closing, with forty-three contacts in view.

"Fuck! Apone! They didn't buy it!" Shepard cursed, pulling out the Specter Mark VII Assault Rifle off her chest and getting herself in a position to defend herself while her left hand was stuck in the atmospheric station's mainframe server, connecting her Omnitool to it while Bishop worked. "Bishop, do I absolutely have to be attached to this Godsdamned machine?"

"_Yes, Lieutenant."_ The Science Officer replied. _"I'm still working on the integration of the worm to the mainframes VOS. It's… it's going to take time."_

"Fuck! FUCK!" Shepard cried out, looking at her hand, cursing the fact that the Omnitool was powered by the user's own bioelectrical field. If she took it off, it would shut down. If she put it on the wrist of a dead body and put it in, it wouldn't even turn on. She was stuck, plain and simple, as the bugs moved closer.

Thirty-four meters and closing, over fifty contacts.

Shepard had two scenarios for this moment; dubbed simply 'Plan A' and 'Plan B'. Both were simple, and were explained to the Marines and the N's. 'Plan A' was simply that Team Dingo would go to the colony, set up a defensive position, and draw the bugs to them, giving Team Valkyrie the time they needed to access the power plants' system in order to cause it to overload. 'Plan A', of course, got a little bit of a revision, as Team Dingo didn't go as far into the colony as Shepard had hoped with the discovery of the burst pods, but it was still 'Plan A'.

Then there was 'Plan B'. In case Team Valkyrie was under attack, 'Plan B' would have Team Dingo actively assault the colony. It was a suicide plan.

"Apone? Plan B." Shepard called out, feeling her heart squeezed in her chest as she ordered sixteen men and women to their potential deaths knowingly, sending them into a hell they knew full and well could kill them all. She took a deep breath, trying to fight the tears that threatened to blind her eyes. "Execute."

"_Executing Plan B._" Apone called out, following what might potentially be her last order to them all. She watched as the contacts moved closer, the tracker's '_pings_' going higher in pitched as the bugs moved closer, more of them now on her HUD radar. She couldn't even count them, but it looked to be seventy-plus at thirty meters.

And then the sound over battle came over their ear pieces.

Shepard sat there uselessly, her heart thudding in her chest as her breaths came in fast and irregular, trying to imagine what she had done, what her platoon and the N's must be facing. More than likely, they were just firing at random to convince the bugs that they were the threat, and they intended to kill everything in their path, as was the plan. In her mind's eyes, Shepard remembered the first complex, a two-hundred and fifty meter walk before a turn that would lead them right to where the cocooned colonists were. How close that was to the hive, no one knew, but she figured it to be the doorstep. Now Team Dingo was heading right towards it with guns blazing in an assault pace.

Had she ordered them to their deaths? The thought was of no comfort at all.

"El-Tee?" Hicks spoke up quietly, and Shepard looked at him as he indicated on his tracker that something was happening. Shepard paid attention to her HUD, and saw that the contacts in the maintenance corridor held at twenty-eight meters, over one hundred contacts strong holding position for what seemed to be about five to seven seconds. The '_pings_' of the tracker was high-pitched and steady, ringing twice a second as Hudson wiped some sweat off his face, the PFC obviously nervous as they looked at the reading. There was no way they were going to be able to take out a hundred on their own. Not without an escape route and Shepard forced to stick with the mainframe until Bishop was complete.

Ninety-nine contacts. Ninety-seven. Ninety-four. Thirty meters. Thirty-two.

"Apone! They took you up on your offer!" Shepard called out, the desperation in her voice obvious. "Ninety contacts and dropping, range at thirty-four meters and increasing! They're heading your way!"

"_Stupid motherfuckers don't know what they're messing with._" Was the Gunny's reply as gunfire filled the radio, and Shepard could hear in the background the sound of shrieks and squeals in between the staccato bursts of fire.

Contact.

"_C'mon you pansy ass motherfuckers!" _Cried out Private Drake, to be followed by, _"Suck some gatt, bitch!"_ Private Crowe's voice loud on the radio as the staccato of gunfire was damn near constant on the radio, the catcalls and warcries of the Marines and the N's filled the din of battle. "_Roaches check in, they don't check out!_" Master Chief Valentino hooted, while _"Don't look like much when you wipe 'em off your boot, eh?"_ came from Captain Mason, pounding away at what sounded like an absolute slobberknocker in 2nd Lieutenant Jane Shepard's earpiece. Her pulse raced with the sound of battle, and she could almost feel the adrenaline coursing through her veins as the fight-or-flight mechanism biologically hardwired to her worked overtime.

"Man! Best fight ever, and we're missing it!" PFC Hudson lamented, a grin on his face as he heard the same thing Shepard was, the squad's technician obviously getting off on the sound of battle and victory. "They must be hosing those bastards down by the _dozens_." He shook his head, his grin wide. "It must be a shooting gallery down there! Man, _listen_ to that. Wall-to-wall in there!"

"Shut it, _pendejo_!" PFC Vasquez warned Hudson, obviously not pleased; either with Hudson's mouth, the fact that she was missing the battle herself, or worried over her friends.

"C'mon, baby!" Hudson kept going, listening to the gunfire and the commentary on the earpiece, his cheer manic. "Maybe we're getting them demoralized!"

"Shut up! Those our people down there!" Vasquez leered at the man, who looked a little mollified after that.

"_C'mon, you boondockers! I got enough love for ALL o' ya!"_ Royce called out, the gunfire still as hot as it had been since it started. Shepard couldn't believe the racket of it, what sounded like an extreme amount of violence coming from the Marines and the N's. And they had only been doing it for a minute, maybe less.

The HUD radar on Shepard's visor still read contacts at forty meters, number twelve, staying put.

"Hicks? I've still got bugs on my radar." She told the Corporal, who looked at his tracker, frowning.

"Ambush? Guards?" Hicks shook his head, guessing. "We open that airlock, they're going to have no impediment coming in."

"I rather open it now and keep both doors open than being stuck in a metal coffin and having to deal with what's immediately on the other side." Shepard explained, making Hicks nod in agreement. "Hudson? Access the airlock's control mechanism and set it for emergency evacuation. Vasquez and Hicks will cover you. When it's time to boogie, I really don't want to fuck around getting a tan in decon."

"I'm on it, El-Tee." The squad's technician complied, going to the access panel by the airlock while Vasquez aimed her Marshal right at the closed door, her posture suggesting not only her readiness, but her eagerness to blast something. Hudson undid the panel's connection points, pulling it down to expose the door's processors, opening up his Omnitool and began working at it. "Give me about a moment here." The PFC said as he fiddled with some of the wires, making connections on one of the boards and plugged them into his Omnitools' Universal Port Connectors. In less than a minute, he cried out with a _Ha!_ as both airlock doors opened, giving them full access to the corridor. Hudson ran from the door as Shepard looked at her HUD.

The bugs were holding at forty meters.

"Vasquez? Hudson? Please go and greet our guests." Shepard looked to the two PFC's, making Hudson smile as Vasquez nodded coolly before they went out the airlock together, sweeping the corner together at the same time. In less than a second, both were firing, and Shepard watched as the red dots on her HUD disappeared quickly, gone in mere seconds. "Good work, you two! Hicks, go with them and track and hold that position while I sit here like a Godsdamn bump on a log!" Shepard ordered, frustrated as hell that she was locked in uselessly.

"Bishop! Good news! Now!"

"_Give me… another minute! I'm coding as fast as I can, Lieutenant!"_ The Science Officer replied, his voice hurried.

"_Fuck, that one spat at me!"_ Came Petty Officer 2nd Class Spunkmeyer's voice. _"Damn that shit is fucked-up! It's… holy shit! Get my armor off! Get my armor offffAAAAAHHHH!"_

"_Spunk? Spunk!" _Warrant Officer Ferro's voice called out, her tone frantic, Spunkmeyer still screaming, growing lesser in volume. "_SPUNK! Oh shit! Dietrich! I got a man down, here! He's… oh god, he's _melting!_"_

"_Moving to you, Chief! Drake! Cover me!" _Navy Corpsman Dietrich called out as the din of battle continued. "_Ferro, I'm here, where's… oh fuck… _

"…_El-Tee? Man down, Spunk's gone."_

* * *

It hit her like lightning.

2nd Lieutenant Jane Shepard sat in the chair, her world floored at the report of Petty Officer 2nd Class Daniel Spunkmeyer's demise, the man who volunteered despite not being a Marine because he and Warrant Officer Ferro thought that the 343 Mobile Infantry would need the extra guns. She had tried to convince them to go, but both sailors would have none of it; they would walk the same road as she and her Marines.

And now Spunk was dead. Spat upon by a bug.

Shepard did her best to fight off the tears, the wretched feeling inside of her as if someone had blasted into her with a shotgun, feeling sick to her stomach. _Get it together! Eighteen more lives depend on you not flipping your shit! _She reminded herself, fighting back the hole that seemed to have been torn into her chest, the grief and ache worse than what Tela Vasir ever did to her.

"_Shit, they're mobbing us!"_ Private Frost called out, his voice panicking. "_These assholes can jump! Wierzbowski! Behind you!"_

"_What the shiiiiAAAAAHHHHH!"_ Private Trevor Wierzbowski cried out in agonizing pain, and Shepard felt her breath catching in her throat, her windpipe thick and mucusy, her left hand trembling as it remained stuck in the server, utter force of will keeping her from ripping it out and failing the mission. They were buying her time.

"_Shit! Kid got stabbed in the chest with a tail!" _That sounded like Sergeant Rita Vrataski, her slight Japanese accent identifying her among the N's. "_Take this, cocksucker!"_

"_Keep it together, Marines!" _Apone called out, the gunfire loud as he spoke. "_Keep your head and your positions! Frost, move away from that wall!_"

"_AAAHHHHH!"_ Came a voice Shepard didn't recognize, short, painful, and immediately cut off.

"_Ounda! Ounda!"_ Royce called out, obviously recognizing the voice of the N4. "_Ounda! Someone get eyes-on!"_

"_Thing's got two mouths!"_ Came Chief Petty Officer Sun Moon's voice, her cool Korean accented voice unfazed. _"Inner one went and stabbed him in the skull and into the brain!" _Shepard couldn't believe what she was hearing as the Chief Petty Officer described Sergeant Oblong Ounda's death.

"_Fuckin' perfect!"_ Royce growled. "_Want to bite my men? Bite some o' this off, you jackalopes!"_ There was a sound of an explosion going off a few seconds later. The gunfire hadn't decreased since it started, and Team Dingo was now down three men.

"_Frost, above you!" _Came Ferro's voice and a burst of gunfire.

"_AHHH! AHHH! AHHH!"_

"_Get it OFF of him!" _Apone roared out as the screams still continued.

"_It's tearing him to pieces!" _Dietrich cried out, and Shepard could only listen in horror. "_Take this!"_

"_AHHHHHHH!" _Private Ricco Frost cried out in agonizing pain, lasting several seconds.

"_Shit! Its' acid! Frost! Frost, I'm so _sorry_!"_

"_Dietrich, get back in the formation!"_ Apone called out. "_Fight now, cry later!"_

"_Sarge… I was trying _save_ him_…"The Corpsman's voice broke over the staccato of gunfire.

"_Shit! They're getting closer!_" A German accent came on the line, and Shepard thought it to be Staff Sergeant Victor Kreig. _"Frag out!"_ The man called out, obviously throwing a grenade. "_Vrataski! The perch to your left!"_

"_Nuked it!" _The Full Metal Bitch called out. "_Fuckers are crawling out of everything!"_

"_The floors! They're coming out of the Goddamn floors!"_ Master Chief Valentino cried out, followed by a spray of weapons fire. "_Mind your Goddamn feet, children!"_

"_C'mon, blokes and sheilas! I think we've done pissed 'em good!"_ Mason called out. _"Fall back by pairs under the cover of retreat fire!" _Shepard hadn't realized that she had been holding her breath for some time, and took a few deep gulps of air, feeling the nervous sweat on her brow running down her face.

"Bishop…" Shepard called out, very agitated.

"_Connection success! Begin download now!" _Bishop replied, giving Shepard a much needed sigh of relief. "_Download will be complete in four minutes."_

"_WHAT!_" Shepard cried out, seeing a status bar appearing on the lead engineer's haptic monitor, counting up from 1%, with a timer reading 3:58 and ticking away slowly. _Four fucking minutes…_

"_Sarge! Below you!"_

"_Take this you motherfucker!"_ Apone's voice was as clear as day and Shepard heard her platoon sergeant firing.

"_Apone! Take my hand!"_ Royce called out, and Shepard felt her throat seize up. "_Apone! Hold on! Val! Shoot that motherfucker!"_

"_Ugly son of a bitch! Yosobi! Duck!"_

"_AHHHH! AHHHH!"_

"_Drake, waste 'em both!" _Royce ordered.

"_Shit!" _The sound of a Marshal opening up, undoubtedly killing Petty Officer 2nd Class Keno Yosobi to prevent him from suffering Frost's fate, Shepard guessed.

"_Royce… let go…"_ Apone's voice was weak, and Shepard couldn't believe what she was hearing. What was wrong? Was Apone hurt?

"_I ain't fuckin' lettin' ya go, mate!" _Royce announced, Shepard feeling hot tears climbing into her eyes. "_I still need that wet wiped off my ears!_"

"_Hale! Shift left!"_ Drake called out, blasting at something, calling out to Petty Officer 2nd Class Valerie Hale. _"Fuck! Hale! Don't move! Dietrich! Hale's got her throat cut! I'll cover you!"_

"_Royce… I said… let go…"_ Shepard couldn't believe what she was hearing, tears streaming down her face as she heard it all, her platoon dying a man at a time while she was stuck here. 12% complete, 3:34 remaining.

"_Fuck!" _Royce called out, and Shepard got the distinct impression that Royce did let go. "_Janey… Apone's gone." _Apone…

14%. 3:28.

Weapons fire from past the airlock commenced, short and in bursts as she looked over, seeing Hicks, Hudson, and Vasquez all firing at once. It was over in just a few seconds, and Hicks looked over to her, and gave her a nod of reassurance as Vasquez and Hudson let off another burst.

"_I'm moving to Hale!"_ Crowe called out, and there was a burst of weapons fire before he came back on-line. "_Shit! Her head's damn near severed! I'm gonna drag her back! Dietrich, ready some stuff for her!"_

"_Gotcha covered!" _Valentino reassured him. "_Nice and easy, little buddy! Corpsman, help him out!"_

"_Master Chief… she's dead. Head's almost completely severed." _Dietrich replied about ten seconds later, Petty Officer 2nd Class Valerie Hale no more.

"_Damn it! I tried!" _Crowe called out to whoever wasn't too busy to listen.

"_You did good, joey, right by her."_ Royce replied, his voice almost dead of tone. "_Form up on Krieg and Drake! Gunners, prepare to cover our asses! Assault back to the staircase!"_

"_Oh shit! Ohfuckohfuck! Get my back piece off!" _Warrant Officer Colette Ferro cried out next, before her screams began to drown the earpiece. They were mercifully cut short a second later.

"_Thanks, Krieg._" Drake's voice was almost a whisper.

28%. 2:54.

_C'mon! Hurry the fuck up!_ Shepard smacked the table in front of her with her right hand, her left still in the mainframe. Half of Team Dingo was gone, and the rest of Team Valkyrie had been firing pretty constantly, bugs in the corridor. Shepard could see them in her HUD, contact after contact rushing down the catwalk, erased within forty meters, the corridor a death trap.

33%. 2:30.

"_Keep moving back!" _Valentino called out, her voice harsh. "_Vrataski! Quit playing with the damn thing and kill it already! Moon, step back a few meters. Drake, Krieg, steady back-up, nice and easy. Good work, boys, you wax those fuckers good. Mason, we're about fifty meters from the connection to the pod room. I say we sprint it with some candy left behind."_

"_Good idea. Moon, Crowe, Bitch, start tossin' prox charges in front of us as we retreat, let these fuckers get… Dietrich! Dietrich!"_

"_AAAAAAAA!"_

"_Cynthia!" _Drake shouted as his Marshal punctuated his words. _"Oh fuck…"_

"_Keep firing, big guy! Head in the game!"_ Master Chief Valentino reminded the Scandinavian man as Navy Corpsman Corporal Cynthia Dietrich wasn't heard from again.

50%. 2:00.

Shepard placed her head on the table, the metal cool against the skin of her forehead as she pounded her right fist into the desk, each time harder as the grief inside of her threatened to explode from within. She couldn't count how many times she wanted to rip her damn left hand out of the server, to collect the rest of Team Valkyrie and go in to save what was left of Team Dingo, now less than fifty percent strength; in military terms, they were considered combat ineffective.

"_Crowe! Stick with Full Metal Bitch!"_ Valentino called out, blasting something nearby, the shrieks and screeches loud on the earpiece. "_Mason! We're at the corridor! Let's make our run!"_

"_Krieg, Drake! Final protective line at the door!"_ Royce called out, shooting at something. _"Blast ass and get ready to run! Everyone else in the corridor and be ready to lay suppressive fire!"_ Shepard couldn't believe that they still had some two-hundred and fifty meters to go. _"What the fuck are those things moving behind us? Moon? Check it out!"_

"_On it!" _The Korean N5 called out. _"Looks like… fucked-up spiders."_

"Oh shit! Moon! Kill them! They're facehuggers!" Shepard called out, remembering the specimens in the Med Lab, as well as the pictures from the Science Lab underneath it. It had been the first time she had talked on the radio in some time. "They'll launch themselves at your face and stick something down your throat!"

"_Romantic."_ Moon replied, her tone amused as her weapon barked out several times in response. "_Fast little dears, aren't they?"_ Her weapon spoke out some more, and then it stopped, accompanied by a sound that reminded Shepard of… choking.

75%. 1:00.

"Moon? Moon!" Shepard called out, her heart thudding in her chest, remembering the picture of Russ Jorden. "Uncle Royce! I think… I think Moon's got a facehugger on her! There's no way to remove one without killing the subject!"

"_Moon? 'Gel?"_ Royce spoke up, and there was a pause, and then several single shots. "_Ah, fuck. Janey… are you really sure about the non-removal part?"_

"Yes." Shepard replied, her tone wavering, feeling a pain right in her heart. Chief Petty Officer Sun Moon was being impregnated but a single pistol shot told her that the problem had been taken care of. How many more would die?

80%. 0:45.

"_Dingo! We are leavin'!"_ Royce shouted, his Australian accent thick and heavy. "_Hustle your asses out of there! Kreig! Drake! Shake a fuckin' leg! Crowe? Slap the Bitch upside the 'ead and tell her to quit fuckin' around! Let's MOVE!" _The N7 shouted, accompanied by the sound of running.

90%. 0:20.

"_Shit, these fuckers are everywhere!"_ Valentino grunted, shooting at something. "_Those prox grenades didn't do shit!"_

"_We reach the tunnel, we cam make a funnel!"_ Royce relayed, his voice tense over the radio. "_Just a little bit further people! Vrataski! Smack that spider!"_

"_Told you the sword would come in handy, Aussie."_

"_Fucking crazy."_ That came from Crowe as he shot at something. "_Who the fuck uses a sword? Bitch! Behind you!"_

"_Take that, you nasty little creeper!"_

"_Well. That worked." _Crowe replied. "_What kind of name is 'Vrataski', anyhow?"_

"_Seriously? Can you two flirt later?" _Valentino admonished them while shooting at something.

95%. 0:10.

"_Get some, you squirmy little motherfuckers!"_ Drake roared as his Marshal did a long blast, filtering through the earpiece. "_You want some of this shit? I got plenty of hot dick for everyone!"_

"_Classy."_

98%. 0:05.

0:04.

0:03.

0:02.

0:01.

DOWNLOAD COMPLETE.

"Holy _shit!_ About fucking time!" Shepard called out as she saw the program running. "Uncle! Worm's in! Systems' going to implement the settings!" Shepard removed her hand for the first time in over seven minutes, shaking it out as she deactivated her Omnitool.

"_Get your team down here. Double-time."_ The Australian N7 told her. _"We'll meet you at the main access hatch."_

"Wilco, Royce." Shepard pulled her Specter Mark VII Assault Rifle off her chest when the alarms of the atmospheric processing station began to sound off.

"_All personnel! All personnel!" _Came a feminine voice over the stations intercom system. "_Coolant system, critical failure. Coolant system, critical failure. Control rod system failure, control rod system failure. Fusion activity increasing at 1% per second, fusion activity increasing at 1% per second."_

_Music to my ears,_ Shepard thought as she moved over to Hicks, Hudson, and Vasquez, who hadn't fired at a bug in well over a minutes.

"_Attention, all personnel! Attention, all personnel! Core… critical. Core… critical. Please evacuate area. Please evacuate area. Recommend safe distance… 10,000 km, recommend safe distance… 10,000 km. All personnel have fifteen minutes to evacuate to minimum safe distance."_

_Wai… what?_

"_All personnel have fifteen minutes to evacuate to minimum safe distance."_ The alarm repeated. "_Core… meltdown in 14 minutes and 57 seconds."_

"ROYCE!" Shepard called out, her heart in her throat. "We need to leave! NOW!"

* * *

A/N: The Virtual Intelligence System, Reconnaissance, known as the VISR, is really the Visual Intelligence System, Reconnaissance (VISR) from Halo 3: ODST

The main focus of this chapter is fear, thus the title 'Hyperventilation'. Without getting into shitty quotes from 'After Earth', I wanted to focus on the fear one feels in combat, and in the lieu of combat. And yes, fear is deadlier than bullets at times.

'…And people call me crazy for carrying a claymore.' UDF Sergeant Rita Vrataski in the manga All You Need Is Kill actually carries a huge battleaxe that's bigger than she is. I figured more people are familiar with its movie adaption, Edge of Tomorrow, where Emily Blount swings around a helicopter blade broadsword.

Organ-Splitter - In Mass Effect: The Battle Of Tuchanka, Chief Petty Officer Stacy Valentino tells how she earns the name 'Organ-Splitter' at Torfan for her use of Omniblades and recklessness, not… ewww… The name originally came to me from a Big Dumb Face song, 'Organ Splitter' which is in reference to… well… a cock.

Sit-Rep - Military shortword for Situational Report. There's dozens of variations of sit-reps, like the SALUTE, the ABC, the GREEN 2, etc. For this, I merely refer to the actual meaning of the word; reporting what's going on.

SCRAM - defined as 'Safety Control Rod Axe Man', it was thought that the first pile of nuclear material in the University of Chicago had an axe man ready to cut a rope to drop emergency control rods into the slurry in case of a runaway nuclear scenario. The United States Nuclear Regulatory Commission (USNRC) has dispelled this notion, as the term actually contributed to a red emergency/panic button with the word 'scram' written above it. It was a verb, not an acronym. Hit the button and run like hell.

I remember the first time I played Mass Effect 1, I went into the Virmire mission thinking I was going to be nuking something. The choice between Ashely and Kaidan floored me, and I couldn't believe a game would do that to me. Yet that is war, and it was a defining moment of the game, probably the only real one that had such an impact for the rest of the series. In this chapter, I tried to go for that with the Plan B… and having Shepard stuck, missing the big fight, her Marines dying while sitting on the radio, her hand stuck in a machine. The fast pace of the radio conversations was the best I could do to mimic the confusion of a battle over a radio, which is _chaotic_. I purposefully don't give any descriptions save for voice.

And this was the hardest chapter I think I've ever written for any story. Longest, too, at 8,500 + words.


	17. Chapter 17: Global Extinction Event

Disclaimer: BioWare owns Mass Effect. 20th Century Fox owns the _Alien_ franchise.

**WARNING:** This is what I like to call 'The Retreat'. You know you've been waiting for this moment, too.

**LV 426, November 18, 2176**

"_All personnel! All personnel! Coolant system, critical failure. Coolant system, critical failure. Control rod system failure, control rod system failure. Fusion activity increasing at 1% per second, fusion activity increasing at 1% per second. Attention, all personnel! Attention, all personnel! Core… critical. Core… critical. Please evacuate area. Please evacuate area. Recommend safe distance… 10,000 km, recommend safe distance… 10,000 km. All personnel have fifteen minutes to evacuate to minimum safe distance. All personnel have fifteen minutes to evacuate to minimum safe distance. Core… meltdown in 14 minutes and 57 seconds."_

"ROYCE!" 2nd Lieutenant Jane Shepard called out, her heart in her throat. "We need to leave! NOW!" She ran right through the opened airlock to join Corporal Hicks, and PFC's Hudson and Vasquez. Hicks pulled up the tracker program on his Omnitool, but Shepard had him lower it down. "We don't got the time, Hicks. We're jogging this shit. I got radar on my armor, so I'll take the lead."

"El-Tee…" Hicks stammered, but she quickly cut him off.

"Hicks, then Hudson, and Vasquez brings rear." Shepard ignored him, not open for a discussion as she shouldered her Specter Mark VII Assault Rifle. "Visor? Low-light vision." Her visor changed its view to amplify light in the darkened corridor, the strobing amber lights almost painful as they rotated. "Filter artificial illumination by half." The strobing lights went from painful to bearable as the same magnification of low-light amplification stayed, letting her see as if the corridor were well-lit. "Marines? We are leaving. Let's move out!" Shepard began walking down the corridor at a fast pace, double the speed of a marching formation, where they were going fast enough to cover the distance but not so fast that they wouldn't have time to react to something. She quickly came up to the slaughter of bugs that Hicks, Hudson, and Vasquez had done, and saw that a good chunk of the floor grating was completely melted away. Checking her radar to see that it was clear, Shepard took a two-step running start and leapt over the four foot gap with good clearance, having an easy foot of space when she landed. "Not too bad on the other side! Hick! Jump it!" Shepard called out as she moved back to give Hicks some space as the Corporal performed the same feat with no difficulties, Shepard shining her taclight at the gap so he could see its dimensions. Hudson was hot on his heels, and the grating shuddered with his landing as his feet were somewhat off the edge where he landed. Still, he made it. Shepard looked to Vasquez, who looked to the pit, and then to her M56 Marshal. She stowed it to carrying configuration, vertical in front of her body and she went to the pipes that made the wall, grabbing them like a mountain climber, and climbed sideways over the gap, performing the same feat without jumping. The Gunner cleared the gap and landed on the grating with a smirk, readying her Marshal in a moment, levering it horizontal.

"Nicely done." Shepard complimented Vasquez. "We should go."

"_All personnel must evacuate to minimum safe distance. Core… meltdown in 14 minutes and 8 seconds."_

"Fuck that bitch, man!" Hudson called out as Shepard led them down the corridor, keeping one eye on her radar, and the other on where her taclight was illuminating. "Game over, man. It's game _over_ on these motherfuckers!"

"Keep it frosty, Hudson." Hicks told the PFC as they moved, Shepard speed-walking in the lead, her taclight touching everything in front of her, pointing at gaps in the piping and ceiling struts. Her radar showed nothing, but she wasn't about to take chances. They made their way down the two-hundred meter corridor, Shepard finding the arrow she had marked earlier. She stopped at the corridor for a moment, eyeing her radar, and not seeing any contact. She scanned the route ahead with her light, and then the direction they needed as well. Satisfied, she took the right and began pacing down the metal catwalk towards the access hatch that would lead them out of the atmospheric station.

"_All personnel must evacuate to minimum safe distance. Core… meltdown in 12 minutes and 12 seconds."_

"Mason! Tell me you've reached the tunnel!" Shepard called out as she went through the corridor. "We're about a minute from the stairway!"

"_Not quite, Janey."_ The Australian N7 replied. "_Little busy here. Meet us at the hatch."_

"Fuck." Shepard spat out as she continued to move through the corridor, her taclight illuminating while her visor's HUD told her that the area was clear of contacts. They reached the staircase in short order.

"_All personnel must evacuate to minimum safe distance. Core… meltdown in 10 minutes and 37 seconds."_

"Hicks?" Shepard looked at the staircase that would lead them to Sub-Level 3, and then to the Corporal. Hicks looked at her for a moment, and then to Vasquez and Hudson. Both PFC's just looked at one another, and then back at her. All three of them nodded at once. Not one word was said.

Shepard led them down the staircase. Right into the lion's den, as it were.

* * *

The metal staircase was bereft of any signs of life as 2nd Lieutenant Jane Shepard led Corporal Hicks, PFC Vasquez and PFC Hudson down to Sub-Level 1, her armor's radar not picking up any source of movement save for the Marines behind her as she rounded the corner and started taking the next flight down to Sub-Level 2, the visor highlighting the area with its low-light capabilities, her Specter Mark VII Assault Rifle's taclight shining on everything she pointed at. Hicks was behind her, holding onto his Disciple Shotgun, Vasquez with her M56 Marshal with Smart Tracking System, and finally Hudson with his Stryker Assault Rifle. She could still hear gunfire over the radio, what was left of Team Dingo still in the fight. They were getting close enough that she could hear the gunshots with her opened left ear, the industrial complex making it hard to tell the direction or just how close they were.

"_All personnel must evacuate to minimum safe distance. Core… meltdown in 9 minutes and 18 seconds."_

"Royce!" Shepard called out, landing on Sub-Level 2, and immediately turning to Sub-Level 3, her HUD still showing them in the clear. "ROYCE!"

Despite the gunfire, there was no answer on the radio.

"Fuck!" Shepard went down the steps of the staircase two at a time, her booted feet clanking with every step as she made her way one level further, her breath coming in hard and fast. _Gods? Please let me find _some_ of them alive!_ Shepard prayed as her feet clanged on Sub-Level 3, the taclight of her assault rifle immediately snapping up to the direction of the tunnel, some twenty meters forward of her position. Still her HUD showed nothing on the radar save for three blue friendly dots. She began moving forward, Hicks, Vasquez, and Hudson following her obediently. It must have said something about the situation that not one wise-crack or moan was given. Shepard walked right up to the tunnel of secreted resin, and right into it, leading with her taclight and her rifle, her feet crunching on the hardened surface of the tunnel. _50 meters, and we should be on the other side,_ Shepard reminded herself as she went through the tunnel as fast as she could without running through it, avoiding the stalagmites and stalactites that protruded from the ceiling and the floor. Soon, she found herself looking at the exit of the tunnel, and she felt her heart leap into her throat once more as she moved straight towards it with the three Marines at her back.

What she found on the other side was beyond anything she could imagine, even in her worst nightmare.

* * *

"_All personnel must evacuate to minimum safe distance. Core… meltdown in 8 minutes and 4 seconds."_

"ROYCE!" Shepard shouted as she exited the tunnel, and found herself looking at a scene that defied description and went past horror. Bugs crawled on every surface, and seemingly were stacked two deep in some places as Team Dingo tried to fight their way to the tunnel. Shepard saw why they hadn't made it yet; the six remaining members of Team Dingo were being flanked and surrounded, and every one that they killed to open up their escape route would bring another. Unfortunately for them, the six Marines and sailors were expending just as much time and energy from being overrun from the other flanks to lay down enough effective fire to open up the route.

"Team Valkyrie! Support by fire!" Shepard called out, immediately engaging the first bug she saw that was in between Team Dingo and their exit. Thankfully, she could fire on it without her round going through the xenomorph and into one of the team members as she put a three-round burst into the bug. The xenomorph practically exploded with the first shot, and Shepard was surprised to see that the incendiary effect that her rounds were produced with severely limited the acid splash to a bare squirt and small leak. Hicks, Vasquez, and Hudson were already firing to the sides, to give the beleaguered Team Dingo some ability to fire at the bugs standing in their way.

"Visor! Single shot, incendiary effect, non-piercing!" Shepard called out as the Mark VII chimed immediately, changing its settings. She then proceeded to fire single shots with precision and speed at the bugs on the platform that stood between them and Team Dingo, taking out five in eight seconds. Each shot was lethal, hitting the bugs in their chests, caving it in the front without coming out the other side, but still managing to kill the creature. "Royce! Hustle your asses here! We'll cover you!"

"_Fuckin' 'ell, Janey!"_ Captain Royce Mason called out as the six surviving members of Team Dingo began moving towards the tunnel, some fifty meters away. "_Peel and run to the tunnel under cover fire! Janey, Keep these wallabies off our arses!"_

"Engage with extreme prejudice!" Shepard shouted in return, her Mark VII spitting out death, collapsing a bug with internal incendiary death with each pull of the trigger. Her visor showed her the status of her heat sink, and she was pleased to see that despite that she was firing single shots at an almost suppressive rate of fire, the amount of heat in the sink was hardly making the temperature rise at all. "Visor? Full auto!" The assault rifle chimed once more as Shepard began spraying her Specter Assault Rifle towards a mass of bugs that were moving towards the platform's grating, crawling down piping that was covered in the hardened resin. A good many fell down with her burst, and she saw that perhaps 15% of her heat sink was tapped… and dropping. _Thank the Gods for fluted barrels!_ Shepard thought as she did this several times, taking something like a dozen bugs with each pass of automatic fire from her Mark VII. She noted that she had probably fired some seventy rounds without overheating her rifle, the heat sinks' temperature capacity at 88%. Hicks was switching back and forth between his Lancer and his Asari Disciple Shotgun, his transition smooth and effective as he steadily racked up a good kill count. The Shotgun was thankfully a slug-thrower, and each shot was lethal even at far ranges, and the Corporal proved to be a surgeon with the weapon. When he went through the heat sink's capacity, he would rotate it out with his Lancer, spraying five-round bursts with the automatic weapon, laying down effective coverage. Vasquez, armed with her self-tracking, self-correcting M56 Marshal Light Machine Gun with VI-driven Smart Tracking System, easily fell into her role as a Squad Automatic Gunner. She moved with precision and grace, sweeping her Marshal in tight arcs, maximizing her volume of fire by shifting her body with the gun's tracking system, pivoting and turning with the gun instead of trying to control it. Hudson, shouldering his Stryker Assault Rifle, was baiting the bugs with his crude sense of humor while putting single shots of explosive rounds into bugs, aiming at the thicker concentrations to make the projectile and its explosive effect killed not only what he was aiming at, but disrupting those that surrounded it within a meter. Each shot would send some of the bugs falling from their perches and paths on the pipes and walls, falling dozens of meters to the platform's grating, where that would crash with a sudden stop and not get back up.

The tide was slowly being fought back.

The six remaining members of Team Dingo, Captain Royce Mason, Master Chief Stacy Valentino, Staff Sergeant Victor Krieg, Sergeant Rita Vrataski, Private Mark Drake, and Private Tip Crowe, began to retreat in a peel, Drake and Crowe hustling towards where Team Valkyrie made their stand. They traversed the remaining thirty meters in a sprint, joining them in six seconds, where both Marines spun about and joined Shepard's line, holding the tunnel while firing at the mass of bugs. Krieg and Vrataski were next, barreling towards the exit as gunfire covered their movement, keeping the path clear as xenomorphs attempted to get closer to them by leaping. Shepard shot a few in the air, while Drake and Vasquez worked their Marshals with withering devastation, their volume of fire easily making a noticeable difference now that they were firing in only one direction, and working side-by-side. Mason and Valentino finally made their move towards them, both N7's running at a full sprint as the eight in Shepard's line provided them with covering fire, driving back the push of xenomorphs from the running figures.

"_All personnel must evacuate to minimum safe distance. Core… meltdown in 6 minutes and 13 seconds."_

"Royce! We need to go!" Shepard called out as the N7's joined them, Royce and Stacy turning and firing at the encroaching tide of aliens that threatened them. "Crowe! Hudson! Peel and get to the hatch!" The two Marines complied, running down the tunnel as Shepard tossed out a grenade on prox setting a meter ahead of her. "Hicks! Vrataski! You're next!" The N3 gave a sour grunt as she turned and peeled, right on the Corporal's heels as they both disappeared down the tunnel as Shepard fired another long burst from her Mark VII, downing a good dozen bugs that were leaping onto the platform in front of them, having no pipes to clamor upon to flank them.

"Janey! Val! You two rabbit!" Royce called out, firing another burst with his N7 Saber Assault Rifle. "Go!"

"Moving!" Both Shepard and Valentino threw out grenades towards the bugs that were bounding down the platform, trying to launch them as far as they could as Shepard took the lead down the tunnel, hearing the explosion of the grenades cooking off, as well as the accompanying shriek of bugs being killed. Shepard wasted no time in the tunnel, running down the length of it as quickly as she could while avoiding the protrusions of the resin as she did so. She could her Master Chief Stacy Valentino right behind her as they retreated through the tunnel and found themselves on a catwalk near the staircase that would lead them up to the upper levels. Shepard bounded up them two at a time, seeing her HUD showing no enemy contacts.

"_All personnel must evacuate to minimum safe distance. Core… meltdown in 5 minutes and 0 seconds."_

"Ripley! Mal!" Shepard called out on her radio, her voice loud in her ears as she reached Sub-Level 2. "Prepare for quick exfil and dust-off! I'm going to need you to go weapons-hot, Ripper! We're bringing _lots_ of friends!"

"_Acknowledged, weapons-hot._" Ripley replied from the UD-4, having stayed on station in the _Cheyenne_. "_Captain Reynolds, get that tub of yours as close to the ground as you can, and I'll strafe everything that tries to make it out of that door."_

"_Got it, Ripper. We've got guns here to repel boarders, too."_ The Captain of the _Serenity_ replied over the radio. "_Jayne! Get Big Bertha and meet me and Zoe by the ramp!"_

Shepard reached Level 2, where the access hatch was, and found it occupied by the four that went before them; Hicks, Hudson, Crowe, and Vrataski. They had their weapons ready to fire in case of contact, but Shepard had another idea.

"Get on the other side of the access!" She told the others as she moved towards the access hatch, seeing that its locking mechanism was still functional. "As soon as the rest are through, we're closing and locking this door. It might slow them down long enough to make it to the _Serenity_!"

"_Good call, Janey!_" Royce spoke up, panting. "_Just sent Vasquez and Drake back, and me and Kreig are peeling now. Left them some presents. We'll be up there in a jiffy."_

"_All personnel must evacuate to minimum safe distance. Core… meltdown in 3 minutes and 52 seconds."_

"Cutting it close… cutting it close…" Shepard breathed out, her limbs jittery as she stood by the access hatch, ready to slam it shut the second the rest of Team Dingo made it through. She wasn't even sure how long it would take the _Serenity_ to make it to the minimum safe distance of 10,000 kilometers, especially if there was a crew door open and they were practically hugging the surface of the moon. Val grunted as the clattering of footfalls could be heard coming up the stairwell, and Shepard's HUD showed two blue dots moving in a spiral, and a few seconds later, Vasquez and Drake were bounding from the stairwell, the Master Chief motioning them to move past the hatch.

"Val? Stick with me." Shepard told the Master Chief. "The rest of you? Hoof it to the _Serenity_, pronto, and prepare to cover fire. We might have those bugs nipping at our heels!" The six of them acknowledged as Hicks, Hudson, Vasquez, Drake, Crowe, and Vrataski all moved down the vehicular corridor, running down its length towards the main access gate as Master Chief Valentino looked over to her with a tired smile.

"Almost there, Janey. We got this." The N7 reassured her, nodding her head.

"_All personnel must evacuate to minimum safe distance. Core… meltdown in 3 minutes and 20 seconds."_

Captain Royce Mason and Sergeant Victor Kreig both came bounding up the staircase, running like madmen as they sprinted towards the door, and Shepard quickly saw why; they were in a foot race with the bugs. It seemed a good dozen or more were right behind them as Valentino started firing through the door, pegging a few as Mason and Kreig both vaulted through the door. Shepard put her shoulder into the metal hatch, closing it as fast as she could. When it was a few inches from latching, a heavy weight slammed into it, almost knocking her over. She pushed back hard as she felt the door shift towards her, opening wider, slowly but surely.

"FUCK! YOU!" Shepard screamed out, putting all of her weight into it as Val shot through the small gap, hitting whatever it was that was preventing her from closing the door. The counterweight disappeared, and the access hatch closed with a thud of finality, Shepard ramming the locking bolt home. "Ha! We did it!" She turned to Stacy to smile, but a pungent odor reached her nose, and she looked over to see the source of it.

The door was beginning to smoke and warp.

"Oh, shit…" Shepard backed away two steps as the metal on the door began to become more fluid-looking by the second. "Acid! They're burning through it! Run!"

* * *

"_All personnel must evacuate to minimum safe distance. Core… meltdown in 2 minutes and 15 seconds."_

Her lungs were on fire, her blood felt like molten lava, and her thighs felt like they had been stuffed with broken glass as 2nd Lieutenant Jane Shepard ran down the vehicular corridor as fast as she could, her breath coming in fast and hard as she panted, sweat cascading down her face as she fought to keep her stride as fast and as distance-chewing as she could. There was nothing tactical about her run; it was a full route, and she couldn't even afford to look behind her to see just how close the bugs were as she ran.

She could hear them over her panting breaths, and the screeches were too damn close.

"Keep it up, Janey, we're almost there!" Captain Royce Mason called out, trying to encourage her as he ran, slowly and steadily pulling ahead as Mason, Master Chief Stacy Valentino, Sergeant Victor Kreig, and herself bounded down the corridor. The clattering of claws and the shriek of alien throats were right behind them, the access hatch having melted and battered down by the bugs mere seconds after they had started running down the corridor to leave the atmospheric processing station on the last leg of their retreat. Mason, Val, and Kreig were all pulling away, gaining distance as Shepard was gulping air, every muscle fiber in her body absolutely screaming at her in agony, begging her to stop. She was on her last legs and she knew it; her endurance was gone, her adrenaline was used up, and it was a titanic struggle just to make her body comply to her demands, to keep putting one foot in front of the other in a long stride and quick pace. Trying to keep up with three SpecOps warriors was having its toll on her, and Shepard realized it just wasn't physically possible for her to do it. The pinch in her side felt like someone had stabbed her with a hot knife and was currently twisting it back and forth, flagging her speed as she watched Royce, Stacy, and Victor irrevocably pulling ahead.

Thoughts of a messy death were exploding in her mind.

"Can't… keep… up…" Shepard gasped, unable to gulp down oxygen fast enough, her breathing filling her ears as the roar of blood and her cramping side threatened to undo her. She tried to push herself faster, leaning forward, but she could feel her body dragging behind like an air-brake or a parachute, and she knew that she had spent everything she had, nothing left inside. Bile regurgitated in her throat, threatening to choke her as Shepard struggled to keep moving forward as fast as she could, half-running and half-stumbling down the vehicular corridor. She swallowed the sour liquid down at the cost of her next breath, and the knife in her side exploded in her as her legs cramped up and she began to stumble and falter. Her steps were unbalanced and uneven as she tumbled to the concrete floor of the corridor, landing with a hard thud as her vision swam and blackened at the same time, making her throw up messily. She had gassed out.

"_You get away from her, you motherfuckers!" _

The cacophony of gunfire exploded in the corridor, the sound drowning everything as the bark of the UD-4's chain guns spoke death at ten rounds a second each, all four of the chain guns speaking death. Ripley, at the helm of the _Cheyenne_, had flown the drop ship low enough that most of the ship could fit into the access hatch, giving the former pilot a clear line of fire and clearance with the _Cheyenne's_ guns. Ripley was merciless as she swept the corridor back and forth with the chain guns, decimating the bugs with her salvo of revenge. Shepard barely noticed the pair of arms that grabbed underneath her armpits, pulling her up to her jellied legs as she vomited again, her vision swimming so back she could barely put her feet in motion. She made an effort not to be dead weight, stumbling as the hands held her steady, bringing her out of the corridor under the fingers of death that the _Cheyenne_ scratched, mowing down bugs like a scythe. The strong arms pulled her out of the corridor and out into the outside environment of LV 426, dragging her past the UD-4 and towards the ramp of the _Serenity_.

"We're all on!" Came a voice that seemed so distant, that Shepard had to look at its owner to identify it; it was her Auntie Val. On the other side of her was PFC Vasquez, stripped of her oh so ever-present M56. "Clear station, pilot! Now!"

"_It's going to be close…_" The intercom of the ship spoke, a man's voice filled with worry as the _Serenity_ shuttered and moved, and Shepard felt herself falling to the floor as the Firefly pulled a serious turn, causing her stomach to protest loudly, and then she felt herself growing heavier quickly throw acceleration, the _Serenity_ pulling a FTL burn planetside. The ship rattled and jostled as it built up momentum and speed, everything shaking violently as Shepard felt herself being pressed to the floor, heaving heavily as two pairs of strong arms held on to her tightly, keeping her from sliding away or lying in the wrong direction. _"C'mon, baby! We can do it!_" The pilot spoke to himself, having forgotten to turn off the microphone or the intercom. "_Kylie! Prepare booster sequence initiators! We're gonna hit FTL in atmo! Ionization is building up too fast for the static discharges!"_ The ship shook and shimmied even worse, at an alarming rate that seemed strong enough to break bones, and Shepard held onto the arms, gulping as her stomach tumbled and her vision blacked-out completely. She was having too much difficultly getting her breath, gasping for oxygen as she hyperventilated, her throat raw from the force of it and her own vomit.

And she blacked out completely.

* * *

"Uhhhh…"

"Ah, I see that my patient has awoken." A polished, educated tone from a man greeted 2nd Lieutenant Jane Shepard as she opened her eyes, blinking rapidly at the bright light that was over her head, stabbing into her eyes. Her eyes adjusted themselves quickly as she looked at the man who had spoken to her, a younger-looking man wearing a Doctor's lab coat, pulling out a syringe, stabbing the needle into a vial, and extracting fluids into it. "I'm going to give you a mild sedative to help with some of the aches and pains, Lieutenant. I am sure that you wish to be more cognitive right now than a drooling catatonic."

"Thanks. I think?" Shepard replied as she watched the man push the needed into an access point on an IV line, feeling her fluids. "Are… are you are real Doctor? I wouldn't expect a real Doctor on a smuggler's craft."

"Yes, I am. You may call me Simon." The man smiled, his aquiline features bold and fine, suggesting that he came from a family that was very well-to-do. "I must admit, I am use to having Mal or Jayne run about with some wounds, ignoring my advice on all matters medical. You, however, have them beat. You were quite recently injured, Lieutenant, and then engaged in what sounded to be very intense combat operations. Did the person who patched you up not express the seriousness of your condition?"

"Navy Corpsman Dietrich." Shepard replied, remembering that Cynthia, like so many others, was gone. "She… she told me it would take weeks to recover, but we didn't have that time."

"I see." The Doctor frowned, looking to a piece of monitoring equipment, showing her vitals. "You, unfortunately, ripped a good deal of your stitches, rebroke three of your bones that were only minimally healed, and your concussion wasn't actually fully healed. Anyone else, for any other reason, I would call them a fool. Your circumstances, however, I do understand." Simon looked back to her, his lips set in a small smile. "I've restitched your wounds, reset your bones, and put you on a feed of stem-cells, protein, glycogen, and vitamin supplements to help replace the nutrients lost for your recovery."

"Thank you, Doctor." Shepard replied, and she meant it.

"Well, I wouldn't be a very good Doctor if I didn't look out for people." Simon smiled, his tone amused. "Besides, I had two N7's and several Marines staring at me like they were going to cannibalize my corpse. Then there was your grandmother, whom as it turns out, is a very nice lady whom I enjoyed chatting with. Both her and the little girl, Newt, were here quite often, keeping you company."

"We made it?"

"With three seconds to spare." Simon replied. "I'm sure Mal and Wash will be telling that tale for some time. I think Mal thrives on such near-death episodes. He has a survival streak that even I have a hard time medically explaining. Anyone else would have been dead long ago, I think. Same goes with you, Lieutenant."

"I'll try not to nuke anymore planets or moons." Shepard replied half-heartedly, not at all serious. Simon wasn't fooled either, she saw. "How long do I need to stay in bed, Doctor? There's people I'd like to see… and… and some letters of condolences I need to write." Admitting that had Shepard's heart clenched up. She had gone in with twenty, and came out with ten. Apone, Dietrich, Frost, Wierzbowski, Spunkmeyer, and Ferro from her platoon, as well as Moon, Ounda, Hale, and Yosobi from Team Dingo. Captain Royce Mason would handle his men's letters, but she felt the need to include hers as well. They had, after all, joined in on her mission, rescuing her and the 343 Mobile Infantry.

"You can go if you need." The Doctor replied quietly, looking at her vitals again. "Just refrain from doing anything else other than normal day-to-day activity for non-military types. Conquering the galaxy might have to be pushed back a few weeks." That had Shepard chuckle slightly, making her ribs ache. "I'll proscribe you some pills and vitamins that will help with your healing process, Lieutenant, mostly calcium and Omega-3 for your bones, some protein supplements for your muscles, and a nice healthy dose of Traxium for general aches and pains. I will take my leave so that you may get dressed, Lieutenant, after I pull these IV lines out. Your uniform is set over on that cabinet." The Doctor pulled out the IV's one at a time, his hands sure and gentle as each one was removed, the securing tape taken off in a manner that wasn't too painful. Simon left the room in short order, and Shepard pulled the simple blanket off of her, slowly getting off the medical table in the small room that was the _Serenity's_ Med Bay. The cheap cotton robe came on, and she found herself looking at a full-length mirror that was situated in the room, and Shepard stared at her nude figure.

_I'm… oh Gods… I'm a mess…_

Shepard found herself looking at the multiple discolorations on her body, as well as the many recent sutures that decorated her flesh. She traced one particularly long one that ran down the side of her ribs, ending somewhere near her hip, the same side that had hurt when she had been running. Another along her shoulder got her attention, too, running up and over the crest of her upper torso. There were some small ones, simple three-to-five stitch jobs that needed reworking. The ones that Dietrich had done weren't in as fine a hand as Doctor Simon's, she could easily tell, but she was glad that he hadn't corrected them. It was a small reminder of the Corpsman.

_Gods, I look like a warrior_, Shepard thought to herself as she traced the bandage that was still on her forehead and cheek, freshly redone by the Doctor. With a wince, she removed them both, and grimaced at the sight of the scar that ran down the left side of her face, almost centered upon the middle of her eye. It made her look tough and determined, sure, but it also detracted from her just being a woman. Shepard traced the scar, still red and fresh, an angry reminder of Tela Vasir. But it was also a reminder of Cynthia Dietrich, too.

_You… you were a good woman, one I would have been proud to call friend._ Shepard thought, looking at the mirror. _You and Ferro, Spunk and Frost, Ski and Apone. I was more than just your Lieutenant… and you were more than just my soldiers._ Blinking away tears, Shepard touched the scar one last time before turning away from the mirror, facing the cabinet where she saw her Blues waiting for her.

Shepard stood in front of her uniform, looking at the blue military blouse and pants, the black Underarmor shirt, the sports bra and underwear, as well as the black socks and military boots, and thought about what it represented. Had it been worth it, to suffer so much just to wear some prescribed clothing? Did it represent her? Did she represent it? Did the sacrifices that she made, that her platoon made, did it equal what the Alliance stood for? The dark thoughts tumbled about in her mind, as she found herself questioning it all. She had grown up in warships, surrounded by the military. Both of her parents, as well as many members of her extended adopted family were military, too. She had already devoted four years of her life to OCS, the grueling hours of Annapolis taxing her body and mind to mold her into… what? A Lieutenant? A follower of orders who plunges into the abyss, cleaning up the messes of others? To suffer the indignities of combat and casualties so that men in suits in the halls of power could direct her and her men like pawns in a game of chess? To feel the grief of the losses incurred, so quickly forgotten by others? Was that what she represented?

On top of her Blue military blouse was a picture.

Shepard picked it up, and was surprised to see a worn photograph of Rebecca 'Newt' Jorden, a real copy on physical paper. The subject captured was of a smiling girl who had never known a day of terror yet, holding an award proclaiming her the Second Grade Citizenship Awardee. Her long blonde hair was brushed and cared for, her skin clean, her clothing good, and the smile genuine. It seemed such a dichotomy to her that this was the same girl she found under a grate in Hadley's Hope; frightened and alone.

_I saved her._ Shepard reminded herself, looking at the photo. _From the very jaws of death, I saved this little girl._

She didn't know why she did it at first, but Shepard flipped the photo over, and was surprised to see real handwriting on it, not the digital kind done with a stylus and a datapad. She read the words on the back of the photograph, and she felt tears coming to her eyes, reading on what was undoubtedly the last piece of personal possession from her home that Newt had. And the little girl had given it to her, along with a message that meant everything.

_Jane,_

_When I prayed for someone to rescue me, the Gods were kind, and sent me an angel. When I prayed for my people, the Gods were just, and sent us a warrior. When I prayed for vengeance, the Gods smiled, and they sent the Marines. And whenever I feel alone, I know that I have a sister who I look up to, an avenging angel, a battlemaiden of the Gods, an Alliance Marine._

_Love,_

_Newt_

_This… this is why I do it._ Shepard wiped away her tears, holding the photo tenderly, reading the words again, their meaning clear. It wasn't the Alliance, Corporate or Military, that she represented. It wasn't about the pain she endured, the losses she sustained, the guilt or doubt she felt. It was about people like Newt, young or old, who needed people like her to fight in their steed. It was about humanity and their fragile home, surrounded by so much hostility and hate. It was about the men and women who worked everyday, that kept things going, that kept things running. Hadley's Hope may not have met much in the scheme of things, but it was home to men and women, a place to call their own. How many more were there out there, in the black? Mankind holding on to desperate claims, under harsh conditions, because that's what they did; they struggled and toiled and ultimately they overcame. Generations upon generations of men and women, working towards a common goal for the sake of Earth and Mankind.

And they needed warriors to defend them.

"Thank you, little sister." Shepard whispered as she kissed the photo, her mind made.

* * *

A/N: As I wrote this, I realized I made a goof, in Chapter 7, Veni, Vidi, Vici, Frost and Crowe plant explosives to collapse the tunnel. I had already written too much to change this, and had already posted Chapter 7 too long ago. We're going to contribute this to the Writing Gods that this isn't a _faux pas_, but instead just the way the universe works. If Shakespeare can do it, then so can I. It's not like I'm writing Alien 3 or 4.

Ripley had her loader moment… in a goddamn gunship. Because who doesn't want to be in control of some miniguns?

Theoretically, to pull 10,000 km in under a minute (6,300 miles for us Americans) is absolutely insane. That's 105 miles per second (or 166.67 km per second for the rest of the world). I'm not even sure that electricity goes that fast in copper wiring. At this velocity, one could reach Earth's Moon in 38 minutes (a distance of approximately 240,000 miles). Such acceleration on a planet with gravity would surely liquify human bones and pulverize the body into pulp in seconds, unless a vessel had some opposite force to counteract it. The thought of the dangers of going FTL in an atmo is not unique to me. I may go into it later.

The whole point behind Global Extinction Event was signify the harshness of war, and what comes after. There is no good way to describe the feeling one gets for losing friends, and the thoughts that follow are heart-wrenching.

Obviously, the events of the movie _Serenity_ have yet to take place, but at least the pilot episode has passed by.


	18. Chapter 18: We Three Kings

Disclaimer: BioWare owns Mass Effect. 20th Century Fox owns the _Alien_ franchise.

**VIEWER DISCRETION ADVISED**: The major story arc of Mass Effect vs. Aliens: The Siege Of Hadley's Hope is complete. The next chapters are here to deal with the fallout, repercussions, and aftermath of the events of LV 426, and to prove that I'm going to **completely ignore Alien 3**. This will also let you know what will happen with Shepard and Co. The Counsel, the Citadel, C-Sec and the Specters, like the Alliance, will be one made in my image, and not strictly by the game Mass Effect. Enjoy!

**Widow System, November 20, 2176**

"_Attention, this is your Captain speaking,_" the voice of Captain Malcolm Reynolds came over the intercom of the Independent Merchant Freighter _Serenity_, "_all Alliance personnel, we have reached the Widow System, home to the Citadel. As your Captain, I should inform you that we are currently _out_ of customs forms, and will have to deal with Citadel Security by any means necessary."_

"Ass." 2nd Lieutenant Jane Shepard called out loud, her voice directed from the _Serenity's_ cargo bay and towards the bridge of the ship, making a few of her team chuckle.

"_I heard that, Lieutenant."_ The Captain informed her. "_We'll be pulling alongside one of the Independent Docking Areas, where you'll be able to reach a number of vessel docks by means of your UD-4 puddlejumper. Just be sure you get into contact with Citadel Traffic Control; they can be a mite unfriendly concerning unauthorized docking procedures."_

"The Citadel. Always wanted to see this place." Private Tip Crowe pointed out, stowing the rest of the 343's gear into the APC, fully dressed in his Alliance Blues. "Think we can do some sightseeing, El-Tee?"

"I'm sure we might be here for a while." Shepard replied, not really seeing anything wrong with the thought after they had spoken to the Counsel. It wasn't like she was bringing the _entire_ platoon to the Counselors of Citadel Territory; just herself, Captain Royce Mason, Science Officer Lance Bishop, and Carter Burke. Everyone else had Omnitools in case they were needed, so she thought a little shore leave couldn't hurt. "Stacy? Can you see about getting us some berths? I'd stay away from the Embassies. Especially the Alliance ones for right now."

"Not a problem, Janey." Master Chief Stacy Valentino replied with a smile, donning her green beret over her greying blonde hair. "There's a few hostels and such for travelers. Seeing human military in them isn't unusual in itself. We'll fit right in and no one will think it conspicuous."

"Good." Shepard smiled, looking at who was left; four N's, six Marines, and four civilians. The heartache over the losses stabbed at her again, and she felt herself sighing, knowing that the pain never really would dull away. "Now load up in the APC while Ripper flies us in." They all filed in; Mason, Valentino, Kreig, Vrataski, Hicks, Drake, Vasquez, Hudson, Crowe, Bishop, Burke, and Newt, sliding into the crew seats of the M577 GRZLY, the APC already connected to the UD-4 drop-ship. The klaxons of the _Serenity_ rang out as an energy barrier drooped to keep the atmosphere in as the cargo bay door opened. Hudson was checking to see that everyone's crash bar was locked in. Shepard herself sat at her chair at the Mobile Tactical Operations Bay, the monitors off save one, showing the _Cheyenne's_ view. She glanced back to Hudson, seeing him finishing with his checks, and locking himself in as well, giving her a thumbs-up. Shepard shook her head at that, glancing over at Burke, who shared with her a smile and a nod.

"Ripper? This is Shepard. Kids are tucked in." Shepard told her grandmother, who was currently sitting in the cockpit of the UD-4. "We're not going to have any problems flying this thing into the Citadel, are we?"

"_Please, Jane. I've been flying longer than this tub of shit Firefly has."_ Ellen Ripley replied from the cockpit, her tone amused.

"_Why does everyone got to make fun of my ship?"_ Mal asked, his tone mockingly hurt. "_Ripley? Shepard? You are both cleared to launched."_

"Thanks kindly, Mal. _Joo how rin bu ya lu shwen fohn._" Shepard replied, wishing him good luck and good journeys. "Ms. Ripley? Engage warp drive." She heard half the people in the APC chuckling with her comment, using an old sci-fi television show's tagline.

"_Be lucky you're a blood relation, brat."_

* * *

Waiting. It wasn't the kind of waiting that one enjoyed, like waiting for an elevator or a chance to go to the bathroom. No, it was the kind of waiting one had when one received a service number at some bureaucratic table, waiting for it to be called. 2nd Lieutenant Jane Shepard was pretty sure that the line to hell had a waiting room, too.

They had been waiting for three hours.

Shepard sat in one of the available chairs in the Citadel Tower Spire, that edifice to galactic regulation and governance, forced to listen to something akin to elevator music, but of the Asari variety. They had landed the UD-4 with little fuss in an Alliance-registered dock, and she had gone to the Spire to make an appointment with the Counsel, going through a multiple-choice test to display the seriousness of her request. Sadly, the four of them, Shepard, Mason, Bishop, and Burke, had been waiting there for three hours, sitting at the base of the final flight of stairs that would lead them to the highest hall of government in the galaxy.

The Counsel of Three.

"Lieutenant Shepard?"

It took her almost a minute to realized that she had been called, and Shepard found herself looking at a blue-skinned Asari, dressed in what appeared to be a diplomat's robe, a soft colored green that didn't flout her mono-gendered feminism. The Asari was looking at a datapad, and Shepard stood from her seat, straightening her Blues and her beret as she approached the Asari.

"I am Lieutenant Jane Shepard." She identified herself, glad that the waiting was over. It was getting to be near the end of the galactic day upon the Citadel, and she wasn't sure what kind of hours the Counsel worked. Was she one of the last appointments? Would they give her time to explain everything? Though the Counsel represented the best authority to approach for what she had found on LV 426, she hoped that they took her seriously. The Turian clerk she had made the appointment with hadn't been pleased at all when she had requested to be added into the schedule without going through the Human Embassy. Shepard had been a little leery about that, and wondered if the Counsel would even honor her request. She tried making the request sound as appropriate as possibly while implying the dangers inherited, but who knew? The Counsel probably saw a thousand such requests that may or may not had any validity to such claims, and Shepard would be forced to contend with others whose inflated egos and pride were somehow hurt. She didn't know if that's how many of the aliens worked, but it was certainly how humans worked.

"My apologies, Lieutenant." The Asari began, her tone condescending as she didn't even bother looking up from her datapad, talking through her work as she flipped through her screen, oblivious to her. "The Counsel is very busy, and cannot just see anyone who believes their matters is more important…"

The Asari's datapad went flying across the waiting room. Shepard didn't even remember grabbing or throwing it.

"An entire fucking human colony was wiped out with illegal research and biocontaminates that may be spreading to other sectors of Citadel Space and the Counsel is _too busy_?" Shepard was practically screaming; she suffered this much and got this far just to be shot down by… by timetables and red tape? "A thousand souls were turned into breeding hosts to an unknown, undiscovered alien species that spreads like a plague, but the Counsel doesn't want to hear about it? I bet they'll be less than pleased when the evidence I've gathered makes the news instead, with me highlighting the Asari and Salarian researchers that were knowingly infecting almost every known galactic species with alien facehuggers and chestbursters instead of the human Corporation that sponsored it!" It was then that she realized that she was screaming at the top of her lungs, daunted by the idiocy of it all. The Counsel couldn't have sent an investigator or someone else to review the validity of her claim, to at least justify her need to see them? They were just going to brush her off, just like Weyland-Yutani did when Director Harper left the 343 to die? "I thought this was a place of justice and governance, not the same shit I see on Earth. I think I'll just find the worst, most sensational reporter I can find to plaster everything on the extranet. I bet the Counsel will find time then when this shit starts showing up all over the galaxy because s_omeone's already stolen it!_"

The Asari diplomat in front of Shepard was leaning back, her blue face pale and her light-colored eyes widened as Shepard realized she had been screaming at full volume directly at the Asari's face, no less than a foot away from the Thessian. Rant complete, Shepard realized that everyone in the waiting area had heard her, some forty-five beings of various races, all looking at her with various looks of shock respective to their species. Even beings walking to and fro to their destinations in the Citadel Tower Spire, uninvolved, had stopped what they were doing and were looking at her. The Asari looked at her in admonishment, and then she touched the small device that was connected to where her ear was located behind one of her crests' tentacles, indicating that someone was speaking to her. Gods, she hoped she didn't just get herself arrested.

"Lieutenant Shepard?" The Asari asked, dropping her hand. "The Counsel has granted you an emergency session, and will see you now."

* * *

2nd Lieutenant Jane Shepard stood on the Dias, the platform where Ambassadors and petitioners to the Counsel of Three stood to beseech the Counselors on matters galactic, standing in a comfortable position of parade rest. The work station in front of her had accepted the OCD's that she had inserted in, clearing it of viruses and other harmful data, and were currently running the software loaded onto it. Not much had been said between herself and the three members of the Counsel as each had several haptic monitors up at each of their stations, going through research and watching captured images of what she and her team collected during their time on LV 426. After she had identified herself, she had simply inserted the OCD's letting the evidence speak for itself. She needed to convince the Three that the situation was dire, to take her claims with earnest.

This had been going on in an emptied Counsel Chamber, all else dismissed save her, for the past twenty minutes.

Shepard watched as the Counselors went over the information, the Asari seemingly going over the pictures and images of the colony complex and the atmospheric station, more interested in the pictures taken, the Salarian going over the hard data, going over what appeared to be five different monitors of text, flipping through each in a sequential order when he (or was it a she?) completed one quickly, moving to the next monitor, while the Turian focused on the combat footages captured by the various members of her team, as well as those collected by Captain Mason's Team Dingo. Only a few polite words had been exchanged between the Human Marine and the Counsel of Three before Shepard had given them the evidence. Everything was hinging on it.

"This is… simply alarming, Lieutenant. And very disturbing." The Asari Counselor, who had identified herself as Tevos T'essus, said first, looking at what appeared to be some of the test subjects from the Science Lab underneath Hadley's Hope, as well as some of the still frames of the human colonists cocooned in the atmospheric processing station. One photo Shepard could see in reverse from the haptic monitor she did recognize; the one of Russ Jorden's 'birth', which seemed to have captured Counselor T'essus' full attention. "And this species, this… xenomorph… had been on this moon for sixty years?"

"At least, Counselor." Shepard replied. "First Contact was made in 2121 by the crew of a survey ship, the CSR _Norstromo_. Due to the ships' destruction by its Flight Lieutenant in order to destroy the organism that had killed all her crew members, her lifepod was lost for almost sixty years. I had first heard of it ten standard Terran days ago, when all we knew was that the colony of Hadley's Hope had gone silent."

"I see that you purged the facility of the biological specimens." The Turian Counselor, Sparatus Quinlinus spoke next, his tone neutral. "Set the facility to meltdown status to effectively kill the specimens and deny anyone coming back for possibly investigation and study. Very bold, Lieutenant." Shepard remained silent for that, just glad that no one was hammering her with charges of creating a nucleological disaster on a terraformed body. It hadn't been a Garden World or a major colony, but she was sure there were repercussions for such events. "Even with limited means and equipment, I see that you found a way to sanitize the facility, as well as preventing further studies from being conducted."

"For LV 426, yes." Shepard answered. "But two separate ships visited the site while we were there; the SSV _Sulaco_ removed ten living facehuggers while we were assaulting the complex the first time, possibly under orders, and an unidentified ship that had gone to the original derelict ship were dozens if not hundreds of eggs were located. Captain Mason and his team have footage of his search, and they found evidence that the removal had been quite recent. The Captain of the ship that picked us up found a landing side nearby, indicating that whatever they took, it had been loaded and transported. To where? I'm afraid I do not know."

"And you turn this over to us?" The Salarian Counselor, Valern Nemnor asked, curious. "Why not the Systems Alliance, Lieutenant? Why not turn this over to your military or your Ambassador to hand it over to us?"

"Because… because I don't know who else to trust." Shepard answered, her tone saddened by her admittance, and it must have been apparent, because all three Counselors stopped reading or watching their viewers and were looking right at her. "A Corporation sent us there, and we have evidence that some of them were quite aware of what was happening, at least in part to the humans of the colony. When I had asked for a rescue, I had used the codeword 'Broken Sword' to identify the loss of a colony world to the Alliance Military Command. That should have brought the fleets, but instead we were abandoned. I do not know if Weyland-Yutani intercepted the message, or have people on their payroll looking for such transmissions, but it told me that I wouldn't know whom to go to. The Alliance Courts were also out of the question; they wouldn't tackle someone like Weyland-Yutani on even if they were incline to do so. Besides, I'm sure all this information violates like… a thousand Counsel laws and sanctions. Something like this should be right up your alley." The Turian Counselor gave a look that resembled so much a human's look of confusion that she had to bite back a laugh. She hadn't known that Turians could be so expressive. "Sorry, human idiom. Means that this is your jurisdiction."

"But you could have turned it into the human authorities instead of us." Counselor Quinlinus pointed out. "I think that is was my college is trying to ask; even if it was a matter of trust, this evidence is… damning."

"Because I don't want there to be a war, Counselors." Shepard replied earnestly. "That a human Corporation did this to a human colony may earn your ire, but the other species involved as experiments will surely invoke your wrath. I felt that the best course of action was to bring it forward to you before your discovered it on your own. We humans have a sort of policy known as 'the leniency of the court…'"

"I am aware of this." Counselor T'essus replied cooly. "Continue."

"I'm doing this to get justice for those who suffered; humans, Turians, Asari, Salarian and the others. But I'm also doing this because I don't want _humanity_ to suffer for something that only a privileged few were responsible for." Shepard explained, her tone passionate. "I may have some issues with my government right now, but it is the government I swore to protect and defend. Right now, I am doing that; I am appealing to you to seek out those who are truly guilty of these crimes, while at the same time preventing an even worse calamity happening. I lost good men and women on that colony, and those colonists were abandoned. I have come to you to seek justice and retribution for the guilty party, as well as the assistance of your abilities to find these creatures that were allowed to leave Hadley's Hope, to prevent this from happening again. All it takes is a similar situation somewhere in the galaxy, and you can find a colony wiped out, or worse, an army of xenomorphs on a ship landing on a dock somewhere as an act of war. And I don't want Earth to take the blame needlessly."

"A passionate plea, and a reasonable one." Counselor Quinlinus spoke, his tone assured. "I think I've seen all I've need to see. Valern? Tevos?"

"You are, of course, in charge of the Citadel Defense Forces." Councelor T'essus replied with a nod of her head. "I shall approve of any action you deem necessary to contain this situation." The Salarian Counselor nodded as well.

"I shall have the STG, the Citadel Intelligence Agency, and a few of our Agents immediately begin seizing Weyland-Yutani records and assets." Counselor Nemnor announced. "I'll bring Agent Reviak up to speed on the apprehension of these names that we've found on these documentations, and I shall have C-Sec Special Investigations go through them carefully."

"I… have a confession to make." Shepard admitted slowly, garnering the attention of the Three.

"I killed a Specter."

* * *

Silence ruled the Counsel Chamber for a solid minute as 2nd Lieutenant Jane Shepard stood in front of the Counsel of Three, bearing the full weight of their scrutiny. Her confession had obviously evaporated any goodwill she might have earned, but if the Counsel was going to investigate everything that happened in LV 426, they were going to see the assault of the Asari. Better to tell them now.

"That is… an unusual course of action to perform, Lieutenant." Counsel Sparatus Quinlinus spoke first, his tone neutral again, but if his Turian stance was anything like a humans', then he wasn't pleased. "Most never claim to have done so if they had, and the boastful would never do so in front of the Counsel. Why have you?"

"It is a part of the combat footage, and you would have discovered it sooner or later." Shepard admitted, her tone weak. "It was an act of self-defense, as she never identified herself or her status as a Counsel Agent to me before she started beating me with the entire room. I only found out later when I was forced to use her armor and weapons to replace my own that she was a Specter."

"You used her armor? And her weapons?" Counselor Quinlinus asked, surprised and confused. "That should be impossible."

"None of it was password-protected or codelocked." Shepard explained. "I was able to modify it to my use during the last assault on the atmospheric processing station."

"And who was the name of this Agent?" Counselor T'essus asked, the Asari's tone cold.

"Tela Vasir."

That had the three Counselors looking at each other for a long moment, their faces unreadable.

"Lieutenant, are you sure of this?" Counselor Nemnor asked, looking back at her. "The Agent's identity?"

"The armor identified the previous user as Tela Vasir, Special Tactics and Reconnaissance." Shepard answered, puzzled. "If you look at my footage of the fight, done two galactic days ago, you can see much of it." All three Counselors were doing just that, speeding through her specific footage until they reached it. All three of them watched the footage from beginning to end, and Shepard had to wince at the footage; had it really been that brutal? All she saw was the point-of-view crashing into a lot of things. Then it got to the part where the Huntress went to perform the forcemeld. The Asari Counselor stopped the footage there.

"These women… I do not know them." Counselor T'essus admitted, shaking her head. "And a forcemeld is quite taboo among the Asari. Even the most ardent of criminals do not do as such."

"That Asari died of what my Navy Corpsman described as a Grand Mal seizure." Shepard explained to the Asari. "I don't know what the Asari did, but I found myself in a nightmare, and we did battle there. I defeated her, and she somehow died right in front of me."

"Which is why we don't do it; the risk is quite real." The Asari Counselor nodded her head thoughtfully. "I will admit, Lieutenant… the only beings capable of fighting off a forcemeld are Asari… and usually Matriarchs, at that. That you were able to do so…" Her voice trailed off as she pondered to herself, resuming the footage. It showed the Commando dropping dead, and the rest of the fight, stopping where Shepard had finished bashing the last Asari's head in with a desk lamp. That earned a snort from the Turian Counselor, who looked upon it with some amusement.

"She didn't identify herself, but that isn't Tela Vasir." Counselor Tevos T'essus finally spoke, rewinding the footage where she could see all three faces. "The other two are wearing Armali Huntress gear, but I must admit that none in the Republic or the Counsel had any assets in the Zeta Reticuli system. I do not know these women's purpose. But perhaps I can find out." The Asari raised up her Omnitool, and typed in several inputs. After a moment or two, Shepard saw a twenty-foot hologram appear to her left, the figure of an Asari facing the Counsel, dressed in battle armor, and festooned with weapons.

"_Counselors, how may I be of service?"_ The Asari asked politely, standing in a polite manner, her hands clasped in front of her.

"You could perhaps tell us how a human Marine thinks she killed you in battle when she acquired your armor afterwards, Tela?" Counselor T'essus asked, her tone amused, and Shepard realized she was looking at none other than Tela Vasir, still alive.

* * *

"_Preposterous."_ Agent Tela Vasir shook her head, scoffing. "_What armor are we talking about?"_

"Serrice Counsel armor, blue with white highlights and undertones." 2nd Lieutenant Jane Shepard replied, knowing the answer well enough. Tela Vasir's holographic face went to her, looking at Shepard with displeasure. "As well as a Specter Gear Mark VII Assault Rifle, a Mark X Pistol, and a sniper rifle I was unable to identify. Oh, and a Kuwashii Visor model with modification I've never even _heard_ of before."

"_Hmm. Must have been one of my misplaced orders."_ The holographic Asari mused to herself, resting her chin in her hand thoughtfully, and Shepard boggled at that; how many pieces of armor did the Specter have that she couldn't identify it? Just _one_ of her misplaced orders? The armor alone was worth a fortune! Everything together was worth more than the new BMW M33 Sport Airdart! "_Blue and white Serrice Counsel? Linked to a Kuwashii Visor? I think I know that set. It was supposedly given to me by Serrice Counsel as a gift from my centennial for being a Specter."_ Shepard didn't bother covering up her dropped jaw; Tela Vasir had been a Specter for a _century_? And some company had just… handed her the armor? The holographic Asari seemed to notice Shepard's look of amazement, and gave her a small smile. "_I remember that a set was supposedly sent to me, but it never reached my domicile. I believe the transport was hit by pirates or smugglers_ _a few years back._"

"That would explain a good deal. Like why the armor wasn't codelocked or password-protected." Shepard replied, nodding. "It had your name attached as the identity of the last user. That's why I thought I had killed you."

"_And… you went to the Counsel with this?"_ Tela Vasir's holographic image looked from Shepard to the Counsel, and then back to Shepard. There was no hiding her tone, amused as one of her tattooed eyebrows went up. "_You are, quite possibly, the _strangest_ creature I've ever heard of. Perhaps very stupid, but you don't lack boldness, I'll give you credit for that._" The Asari shifted her position, standing with her arms crossing her heavy armor. _"Do you have a picture of this supposed imposter?"_ Counselor T'essus clicked on a few inputs on her haptic screen, and Tela Vasir looked at something on her side, supposedly another screen. _"Goddess! You killed her?_ _I've been hunting that creature for the better part of a century! Filthy genetic throw-back."_ The Counsel Agent looked to Lieutenant Shepard for a moment, seemingly weighing her, her scrutinizing eyes never wavering. "_You killed Pharye Myraria, an Ardat-Yakshi with an impressive amount of murders in her name. And you killed her in combat? I am… impressed."_ The holographic Asari said with a tone that said she meant it. "_Did you wear my armor and use my weapons?"_

"Yeah. They were really nice to have during that last assault." Shepard admitted sheepishly, shrugging. "My armor and weapons were destroyed when… Pharye?" She had difficulty saying the name. "When she hit me with every wall in the room. It was the only armor available."

"_I'm sure it was."_ The Specter seemed to be amused by the comment; it was obviously that she didn't believe it, but wasn't going to call her out on it. "_What was your name again?"_

"Lieutenant Jane Shepard." She watched as the Asari Specter typed on something that didn't show up on the hologram, inputting a few things for a couple of seconds, before a chime appeared. Shepard looked down to the work station in front of her, and saw that she had just received a communications message from… from the Special Tactics and Reconnaissance Office of the Citadel! Looking up to the holographic Asari, she watched Tela merely nod her head, letting Shepard know to open it.

_To: Shepard, J., Lieutenant (SAMC)_

_From: Vasir, T. Agent (Counsel)_

_You earned the armor and weapons; use them at your discretion with my blessings. I'll file the paperwork for the legal transfer. After this session, I'll message you later, and there we can talk about employment opportunities. Besides, you've earned yourself a drink or three._

_Holy shit,_ Shepard thought to herself as she read the message again, amazed by what she saw. _Does this mean what I think it means?_

"_Are we satisfied with the conclusions, Counselors?"_ Tela Vasir spoke again, her attention to the Three. _"As you can see, I am not dead."_

"We are, Agent. Thank you for the clarifications." Counselor T'essus replied. "Go with the Goddess, Vasir." The holographic Asari nodded as the image disappeared, the twenty-foot image crackling into nothingness as the Three returned their attention to Shepard, who felt the weight of their scrutiny. "Lieutenant, in light of recent events, I do believe we will not have to press charges against you. It seems that you mistaken, but we thank you for your honesty and candor."

"Thank you, Counselor." Shepard wouldn't lie; she was very relieved that that messy situation had been cleaned up.

"Lieutenant?" Counsel Quinlinus spoke up. "I must admit, my impression of humans and your actions do not mesh, and I mean that as a compliment. While jurisdictional matters are not in my field, I do understand your want of the _actual_ guilty parties to suffer the weight of their crimes. We shall have the SSV _Sulaco_ looked into; every destination, every port, every piece of cargo that came on and off that ship. The threat is real, and you have made your case as to how to deal with these creatures. As for the mysterious ship, we will send an investigator to see what clues we can discover before being able to move forward. Your… eagerness to wipe of the species will hamper with that investigation, but I concur with your conclusions; it would not be wise to leave such an uncontrolled species for just anyone to come and take, possibly endangering many worlds and lives. To your actions on LV 426, you have met with my approval."

"As you have mine." Counselor T'essus agreed, nodding. "I shall include your information to our lists of issues to be dealt with, namely tasking Agents to look out for such creatures and to exterminate them. These things remind me too much of the Rachni, and a repeat of history simply will not stand. The Counsel approves of a search and destroy measure of the xenomorph species and its sub-species variants. The research that you were able to copy and provide will be useful in determining on how to locate them, and perhaps how to protect others from them. Any further research shall be defined as illegal except in the manner of tracking, locating, searching, or exterminating. The Counsel does not wish to see another weaponized species spread throughout the galaxy, either by beneficial means, benign, hostile, or otherwise."

"As of now," Counselor Nemnor added, "agents of STG, the Citadel Intelligence Agency, and C-Sec Special Investigations are already in the process of investigating your claims, as well as this Weyland-Yutani Corporation. As we speak, charges are being accumulated by the validity of your claim, as well as the collaboration of evidence we are discovering right now on many of Weyland-Yutani's mainframes. Arrests will be in short order as we delve deeper into this atrocity. The justice you seek for the colony and those who suffered shall be served, Lieutenant." The Salarian Counselor then aimed as smile at her. "You did right, coming to us, with your reasons being sound. If we had discovered this on our own, we would have had to reach our own conclusions, and the Void knows what we might have discovered first before doing so. Your coming forward indeed has saved many, many lives, Lieutenant."

"Thank you, Counselors." Shepard replied, almost feeling herself swaying on her feet. She had done it!

"Oh? And one last thing, Lieutenant." Counselor Sparatus Quinlinus called out before she could leave. "I've authorized you and your team a suite in the Hesperiidae Hotel, compliments of the Counsel. As key witnesses to the events, there will be many debriefings, as well as the trail that will undoubtedly follow. I'm sure the reservations will be better than the hostel that they originally were put up in." Shepard was a little flabbergasted at that; it sounded nice and expensive. "Now could you do us a favor and pull your Marines out of the bar? C-Sec is already on their way to… defuse the situation."

"We're just trying to find our place in the galaxy, Counselor." Shepard replied with a smile. "A bar is as good a place as any."

* * *

The suite, 2nd Lieutenant Jane Shepard came to learn, was very nice indeed.

"Holy shit." PFC Jeanette Vasquez whistled when they all entered their new lodgings, looking something akin to a penthouse, with several rooms for sleeping quarters. The main room was almost as large as the SSV _Sulaco's_ cargo bay, complete with entertainment monitors, couches, tables, a dining area, a kitchen, and a view of the Presidium that was very impressive. The decor was obvious Asari, with light blue hues painted upon the walls, with paintings and reliefs obviously depicting the oceans and forests that looked nothing like Earth or any of its colonies. Thankfully, Asari and Human physiologies were close enough that the couches were angled correctly, as well being around the right height.

"Damn, El-Tee, you got us some nice digs." Private Tip Crowe said, his eyes wide as he took in everything. "This has got to be the best shore leave anyone's ever had!" A choir of agreement came from most of the fourteen voices that were staring at the suite with amazement, obviously impressed. Even Carter Burke was looking around with widened eyes, a man who was more use to finer living that the military personnel of the Alliance. Shepard couldn't even begin to guess as to how much a suite like this would cost per night, and the Counsel of Three had given it to them _in perpetuity_. She had already been visited by a Counsel Liaison, an Asari by the name of Ishis Dieri, who had escorted the fourteen humans to the suite in the Excelsior Hotel. To say that they didn't fit in among the richly-garbed Asari, Salarian, Turian, Elcor, Volus, and Drell was an understatement; almost all of them were in military uniform, Newt in colonial clothing, and even Burke looked a little undressed for the place. Shepard hadn't liked being stared at by the many species that were roaming the fine lobby of the Hesperiidae, their eyes following the humans as if they were dirty orphans at a fine party. She had also noticed that there didn't seem to be one human employee in the entirety of the Hotel either, most of the lobby workers being Asari, and the janitorial staff Salarian. _I guess this place is too good for us humans_, Shepard thought to herself distastefully, looking at the vaulted ceiling of the Penthouse Suite, surprised that there was a fresco painted of it; apparently it was of an Asari fighting a black demon in the sky.

"Dibs on the shower!" Sergeant Rita Vrataski called out immediately, the Full Metal Bitch's voice smug as she grabbed Crowe's arm and began dragging him towards a direction that might have had a bathroom or a shower. That had Corporal Hicks shake his head while PFC Hudson snickered. Shepard just smiled, and wondered just how different things were going to be between Asari and human preferences when it came to showers and toilets. With a mono-gendered race composed of female body parts, Shepard guessed that lowering the seat wouldn't be an issue.

"They don't waste time, do they?" Master Chief Stacy Valentino commented, amused. "A shower does sound good. So does food."

"The Hotel, of course, offers room service for its guests." Ishis Dieri announced, her hands clasped in front of her in the same manner that Tela Vasir did during her holographic call to the Counsel, Shepard noted. The Asari didn't seem to talk too much, though she did answer every question politely, if with few words. Shepard wasn't sure of the Thessian didn't like working with humans, of if she were just a being who didn't talk much. "To order, simply contact the _ja'ma convexi_ for any inquiries."

"Ja ma what?" Private Mark Drake asked, scratching his head.

"It's the Asari version of a House butler, or a _maitre'd_." Burke explained, but still got a confused look on the Scandinavian man's face. "A concierge?"

"We get a servant. A fancy servant." Corporal Dwayne Hicks offered, and Drake replied with _ohhhh_, finally getting it.

"I just hope they have Earth cuisine. I'm not too sure about… the other stuff." Ellen Ripley said quietly, making Shepard fell sympathy towards her grandmother. Everyone else in the room had either lived with the knowledge of intelligent galactic species, or were born since their discovery. Yet for the ninety-four year old woman who had been in hypersleep for fifty-seven years, she had only been minimally aware of such, and had never seen another alien save for the xenomorph. The way Ripley's eyes would trace over to the Counsel Liaison, Shepard knew that Ripley was still having trouble believing it, since the woman had been born in an era pre-First Contact War. Even though it was all their first time in the Citadel, for Ripley, everything was even stranger to her, having come from a time when Mankind was barely pushing out to the nearest stellar neighborhoods via hyperspace warp drives.

"Just don't eat anything marked 'dextro'." Alliance Science Officer Lance Bishop provided for Ripley. "That will be one mistake you won't ever forget."

"And this shall conclude my time with you this evening." The Counsel Liaison said, bowing at the waist. "I shall return in the morning for Lieutenant Shepard at First Light."

"First… what?" Shepard was a little confused by that. "Is that dawn here?" The Asari simply nodded her head, still smiling. "Then I shall see you in the morning, Ishis Dieri. Thank you." The Liaison left the room, closing the wooden doors behind her, and it took Shepard a moment to realize that the wood was indeed real wood, though she didn't know what kind. It reminded her of some of the pictures of what Kings use to live in back on Earth.

"Need food." Captain Royce Mason said simply, throwing himself on one of the couches, testing it out and finding it to his liking. "Think they got some barbie here? I could go for a rack and a Fosters'."

"I would recommend we stick with room service for now." Shepard said, looking to Royce. "I don't know how much things cost here, but it seemed that everything in the Presidium was quite pricy. I don't even know what the exchange rate for Earth Credits to Galactic Credits is, or if they're charge for conversion." That had the Australian wince; he hadn't thought of that, obviously.

"Guess we're eatin' in, honey." Royce teased Stacy, the Master Chief rolling her eyes as she turned on the entertainment monitor, finding the Citadel News Network doing their daily reports, mostly on the state of the various economies in Citadel Space. "Game?"

"What would you like? Asari Bioticball or Turian Running Man?" Valentino leveled without humor, referring to an Asari game that was somewhat similar to volleyball, but without sand, and a Turian contest in which Turian convicts were put into an arena and chased by hunters. "No human networks. Gonna miss ECUU out here. Damn it." Royce winced at the implications.

"I'll talk to the _ja'ma convexi_, see if we can get ANN out here." Burke replied. "I'm sure with the Human Embassy, there might be some Earth programs. So, dinner?"

"I've… been called away for dinner." Shepard admitted, wincing. She hadn't had much of a chance to talk to her Marines yet since she met with them at the lobby of the Hesperiidae, under the generous escort of C-Sec. "I've been invited to some place called _Corella's_ by… a Counsel Agent." That had Royce whistle out loud.

"You got asked out to dinner by a _Specter_?" Hudson's mouth dropped open.

"It's not a date!" Shepard exclaimed quickly, scowling at the squad's technician. "That armor I wore on LV 426? The Asari I killed stole it from her, and evidently was some sort of dangerous criminal. The Agent is merely paying me back, I guess."

"Jane, Corella's… is a really nice place." Burke told her, looking at his Omnitool, going over the resturant's extranet site. "Like… beyond five-star nice."

"_What?_" That didn't seem to bode well in Shepard's mind. When Tela had sent the invite on her Omnitool, it had only given her a location and a time. _Gods, please don't let this be some romantic evening with an alien!_ "Are you sure, Carter? I mean, it could just be… I don't know… _casual_ for an Asari, but really nice for us?"

"Let's look at the reviews!" Stacy jumped in, pulling Burkes' arm over to look at his Omnitool, while Royce and Drake began accessing their own. Shepard began to feel her stomach dropping. "Let's see… ah! Here's a good one!" The Master Chief picked up an Asari's falsetto voice, affecting a fake Thessian accent. "_Corella's is simply the PLACE to go to wine and dine romantic counterparts…"_

"…_Asked my mate to bond at Corella's, and it was a smashing success! Thanks, Corella!_" Royce added, reading another review. "Fuckin' Turians."

"Heh, here's a good one." Drake jumped in. "_The food is simply irresistible, and women can't help but…_"

"ENOUGH!" Shepard shouted loudly, cutting off the teasing. "IT'S… NOT…A FUCKING… DATE!"

"Well, I hope you brought your tux, Janey, 'cuz this ain't jumpin' in yer barhoppers kind o' shin-dig." Royce pointed something out on his Omnitool, whistling appreciative. "Lookie this 'gel here. If anythin' more was missin' from her dress, I'd call it body paint."

"_Convexi_?" Burke was talking to his Omnitool, obviously having placed a call to the Hesperiidae's concierge. "Yes, this is Carter Burke in the Da'bana Suite. We are going to need a formal dress for tonight for a human female, preferably formal. Nothing?" The mid-level executive frowned for a second. "Do you have anything Asari-related that would be considered modest? You do? Perfect! Can you deliver it to our suite within the next fifteen minutes? One of our people has a date at Corella's…"

"Someone please take me back to the bugs…" Shepard moaned, slapping her palm to her face. Gods, could things get worse?

* * *

A/N: BMW M33 Sprot Airdart - A high-end German manufactured air car boast the highest safety rating of a human-made vehicle, its quality is legendary as well as its expense. It is also require to have a permit to own, as it can exceed posted fly limits on Earth, its colonies, and on the Citadel. The BMW M33 was showcased last year in the Grand Prix Terra, where it took the checkered flag under the hands of Emile Levassor.

And you didn't think I'd kill off Tela Vasir that easily, would you? She was damn near as hard to kill as the Shadow Broker and Kai Leng! And she was seriously wounded during that fight.

'_Hesperiidae_' is biological family name for the Costa Rican Thessia Butterfly. That's right, I went Greek this time.

The fresco is of the fight of Athame against the 'demon' in the Thessian skies. The demon actually isn't a Reaper, but an Oravore, a race that lived in the same cycle as the Protheans.

Dinner date? Tune in for more!

I mention Earth Credits and Galactic Credits. Yes, I know that Mass Effect just had 'credits', but seriously, how long did it take for the European Union to phase out local currencies for Euros, and even then, not everyone did it. The Alliance made a standard bill (thus the Earth Credit) which is good in Alliance Space and Citadel Space, but there is a conversion for switching, just like there would be for any two separate countries.


	19. Chapter 19: Hotter Than Prom

Disclaimer: BioWare owns Mass Effect. 20th Century Fox owns the _Alien_ franchise.

**Widow System, November 20, 2176**

"_Chica!_ You need to stop moving so I can finish with your hair!" PFC Jeanette Vasquez complained as she piled the fiery tresses of 2nd Lieutenant Jane Shepard's hair on top of her head, trying to pin it into place with bobby pins, while Master Chief Stacy Valentino was working on straightening the toga-styled Asari dress on her frame, clasping the ornate golden belt that came with the dress around her waist. Ellen Ripley was helping by putting light touches of make-up on Shepard's face, adding blush to make her freckles a little more discrete while adding some rouge to her cheeks to make her eyes stand out more. Rebecca Jorden sat in a nearby chair, feet kicking back and forth, watching it all with a silly grin on her face as Sergeant Rita Vrataski fiddled with a pair of sandals on Shepard's feet, having to hike up the dress's hem in order to buckle them properly halfway up her shins, wrapping the cords around until they were secured above the meat of her calves.

"I swear, this is like in every plot of every bad pre-FCW alien movie; scantily clad human woman being abducted by aliens." Shepard muttered, the women chuckling at the comment. They had taken over the large bathroom that belong to the master suite, which in itself was quite large. Indeed, six women occupied it and weren't cramped by any of the bathrooms' many accessories. Shepard suffered more attention as Ripley began putting eyeliner and mascara on her eyes while Full Metal Bitch finally exclaimed victory over the Romanesque sandals. Stacy backed away, looking at the dress with a critical eye, her hand on her chin while Vasquez put the finishing touches on Shepard's hair. Within a minute, everyone was done with their part, and Shepard felt like Thanksgiving's Dinner; fully dressed, and the host of many an eye. "Well?"

"Turn around and look at the mirror, _chica_." Vasquez replied as she leaned an arm on Valentino, a sloppy grin on her face. In fact, all of them save Valentino were smiling like the cat that caught the canary, Shepard mused, as she turned to look at the full-height reflective surface of the bathroom to see just how bad the damage was.

What she saw was… stunning.

The dress, made for an Asari, was a cream-colored garment made to draped from one shoulder, leaving the other bare as it crossed over her torso, encircling itself just underneath her arm so as to not expose too much flesh. Her left shoulder was exposed, as was the entirety of her left arm, where thankfully few scars were seen, covered with a little touch-up by her grandmother. The cream-colored garment didn't drape down her as much as it folded along her figure, suggesting her femininity as the golden token belt that hugged the garment to her waist held the folds in place, belling downward slightly with her hips. A long slit ran up the left side of the toga's train, exposing her leg to mid-thigh, showing its shape every time she would walk, and the white sandals made of some kind of supple leather accented the classiness of the ensemble. Her hair had been pulled up to bare her neck, piled and pinned on top, and put into a bob, a few innocent strains left out to give it volume. Her make-up was artful and tasteful, her freckles now suggested instead of splashed across her checks and nose, blush added for subtle tone, and her green eyes stood out, almost mesmerizing by the eyeliner. A touch of cover-up had been put on her stitched scar on her face, and while still noticeable, it looked to be months instead of days old. Her lips had been made to a dark rub red, seductive and alluring, and it made her teeth look all the more brilliant. The only thing that stood out about her originally, the only thing unaltered, was her Valkyrie tattoo on her right bicep, her right arm bare from the shoulder down. Thankfully, the scars along her ribs and waist were covered.

"Gods… I… I don't believe it." Shepard looked at the mirror, astonished by what she was seeing. She knew that she was a pretty woman, better than 'girl-next-door' beautiful, but between the dress, her hair, and her make-up, she was simply… stunning. There was no better way to put it. She never looked like this at any of the military balls she attended with her Pop, Captain Anderson, nor any of the ones during OCS. "Vas? I look better than prom." Shepard smiled sadly, thinking of Cynthia Dietrich and her comment. That had Vasquez smile sadly with the memory as well.

"Better than a _quinceanera_ dress, that's for sure." The Gunner nodded with approval, looking over Shepard's reflection. "I could make it pink and frilly for you, _chica_."

"You are not ruining my hard work!" Stacy growled, taking a few steps forward, sliding a hand on Shepard's shoulder. "Look at you, Janey. I remember when you were but a fifteen year old girl, all knees and elbows, barely able to fill out an Alliance's brat uniform. Now look at you." Valentino discretely wiped away a tear. "All grown up, and… shit… I wish David and your parents could be here to see this." Shepard had a hard time seeing Stacy teared up the way she was, the tough woman who had been there for her for years. Having Captain Anderson raise her as a child had been a blessing, and while he was a great man, he knew little of being a parent, especially for a girl. When Stacy Valentino had come to his N team, a N3 Petty Officer 1st Class who had taken an immediate liking to the young woman who was more likely to dress like a boy, with a boy's haircut, and even acted a tomboy. It was Stacy who took Shepard under her wing, and taught how to be a woman. Not the parts about ribbons and bows, but how to stand tall and proud among men, to show that she was more than just something pretty to look at. Standing in front of that mirror, with her Auntie Val next to her, Shepard couldn't help think how much she owed who she was today to the N7 that held her now. She saw the reflection of the other women who were there for her now, each there for their own reasons, and Shepard knew that she had more than just friends.

They were family.

2nd Lieutenant Jane Shepard stood at the front of the lobby of the Hesperiidae Hotel, a few minutes early for her right. The Specter Tela Vasir had messaged her, indicating to meet the Agent at the lobby, and that she would provide Shepard a ride to Corella's. Shepard now stood by the front, drawing looks from the various species that were coming in and out of the Hotel, undoubtedly on their own dinner dates. She had to admit that the quality of looks that she was receiving had markedly improved; no one looked at her as if she were were scum intruding in their world. No doubt, they all saw her in an Asari dress and put two-and-two together, and probably thought her an alien lover. That didn't please her at all, being thought some Asari's paramour.

As she stood there stewing, enduring the glances as best she could, a black-faced Turian with white face paint dressed in what appeared to be a high-quality suit made for Palavenians approached her, checking something on his Omnitool quickly, looking up to her after checking it.

"Lieutenant Jane Shepard?" The Turian asked, his strange double voice hopeful as he looked at her, standing rather politely.

"I am she." Shepard identified herself, though cautiously, not sure what to make of the situation. "And you are…?"

"Malio Vibicus." The Turian saluted her quickly, in a manner that was almost exactly like an Alliance salute, save with three talons for a hand. Shepard returned the salute, more at a loss at what to do, though the Palavenian was rendering a formality to her. It was… different, and not necessarily a bad thing. "If you could please follow me, Lieutenant? I am going to be the driver for both you and my Mistress for this evening." It was then that Shepard understood; Malio was a bodyguard of sorts. Specters had bodyguards?

"Lead the way." Shepard nodded, and the Turian turned, heading out of the lobby, and she noted the compact form of what looked to be a sub-machine gun underneath his Turian-styled jacket. Perhaps… perhaps the Turian was _her_ bodyguard, as she wasn't licensed or allowed to carry weapons on the Citadel. Would Tela Vasir do that for her? Shepard followed the Turian outside the Hesperiidae Hotel and into its expansive garden and valet area, where several air cars ambled idly, each one an expensive brand and model, Shepard noted. Malio Vibicus walked towards one particular one, a sleek, black model that was quite long, and Shepard realized that it was… well, it was limousine. A very nice limousine, at that. The Turian went to the side of the long air car, opening up the gull wing door to offer her admittance, and even held out a taloned hand to help her inside. Shepard tentatively took the hand, not wishing to offend the Palavenian. She bent down inside the limousine air car, sliding into a seat that was comfortably plush as Malio closed the door behind her. There she saw across from her, on the opposite bench seat of the limo facing her an Asari in a dress tailored for her own kind, both regal and elegant in nature. It was a shouldered affair that left both arms bare, as well as the lower torso. The dress looked to be a wrap, no buckles, zippers, or belts to hold it together, either cleverly designed or put together well. Not that Shepard knew much about dresses, but even she could tell that it was very high end. The only reason she knew that the Asari in front of her was Tela Vasir was the matching face paint on her face that her holographic image had presented before.

"I was hoping that you find something appropriate for tonight in time." The Specter smirked, holding a glass in her hand delicately, filled with what Shepard assumed was wine of some sort, probably of the Thessian variety. "An Asari chiton and peplos? I'm assuming that it was what the Hotel had available?"

"Yes." Shepard replied glumly, feeling a little dejected. She had thought herself looking rather nice.

"Don't be exasperated, Maiden; it does look good on you." The Thessian complimented with a nod of her head. "I can only imagine how difficult it must be for your species here on the Citadel, with the sponsorships, work visa, limited living quarters, and paperwork through C-Sec. As I understand it, your Corporate Alliance does not let many of those who don't work for the government in some capacity into the queue."

"Family members of those who work here? Yes." Shepard replied, nodding. "Anyone else? You usually have to buy or bribe your way in. There's something like… ten thousand humans on the Citadel, perhaps? Well, ten thousand _registered_ humans. I'm sure a few pop up as stowaways and what-have-yous." Tela Vasir merely _hmm'ed_ at that, taking a sip of her wine. "I'm just glad that the Counsel was able to give us working passes. We pretty much smuggled ourselves in."

"Well, when one brings actual tiding of concerns with evidence to back it up, you'll be surprised what kind of doors will be opened for you." The Asari responded with a smile. "Which actually brings us to what I wished to discuss before we arrive at Corella's. I reviewed much of the information that you gave the Counsel earlier, and I readily admit that I am impressed by your actions, your resolve, and your decisions, Lieutenant. Many a being would have given up or fallen long before, yet you managed to accomplish your tasks under very difficult situations. As we speak, more than a few in Special Tactics had scrutinized the information, and the general decision towards what you did has been quite favorable to you."

"Um. Thank you." Shepard replied, feeling a little embarrassed. She knew that there would be others who would review what they have found, but never really considered that she herself would be reviewed as well, especially by the elite of the galaxy.

"Now earlier, I talked of employment opportunities." The Specter continued, taking another sip of her wine. "But before I go into it, I must ask you; what do you know of the Office of Special Tactics and Reconnaissance?"

"Oh! Um…" Shepard felt her cheeks heat up, thinking of the only real piece of anything she knew about Specters save rumors. "The Blasto movie." She admitted dejectedly, hanging her head slightly for having such an answer. That had Tela Vasir throwing her head back with laughter.

"Of course!" The Asari looked at Shepard with some amusement. "Surprisingly, minus the damn jellyfish, the movie was fairly true to form. Specters are, at the end of the day, arbiters of justice of Counsel Space. Our authority supersedes others, and we have many divisions that work on their respective fields. Most assume Specters to be militant Turians loaded with weapons, firing all around them in an ill-prescribed manner…"

"We call it a death blossom." Shepard informed the Thessian, taking the Asari aback for a second.

"Death blossom? Hmm… you humans do have such colorful terminology." The Specter mused, smiling. "I like it. Most Specters are something akin to warriors and investigators, sent out to enforce Citadel Law, especially in the areas that normal patrols overlook. We have our strengths, of course, but each of us are expected to follow leads and investigate them to the upmost of our abilities. You have done something surprisingly similar to this on LV 426, Lieutenant. Thus, this conversation."

"At a high-scaled restaurant?" Shepard asked, arching her eyebrow at the Specter, her tone indicating she wasn't being fooled.

"If I say I owe somebody a drink, it will not be the slop at some grungy little din." Tela Vasir replied, smiling. "Besides, it is nice to enjoy oneself from time to time, and Corella's keeps a booth open for Specters." That had Shepard rather surprised. Five-star restaurants kept booths open for Specters? That was certainly nice.

"So what is this 'employment opportunity' you wish to discuss?"

What Tela Vasir said next absolutely floor her.

"Matriarch Tela! Welcome back to Corella's!" An Asari hostess gushed from her podium at the front of the restaurant, lacking any face paint that 2nd Lieutenant Jane Shepard saw many Asari possess, though none nearly as extensive as Tela Vasir's. Shepard wanted to ask what it represented, if it was anything like the Turian markings of Clan and Colony, but she wasn't sure if it was considered polite. The hostess was dressed in what appeared to be the restaurant's chosen clothing decor, a sensual dress that hugged her figure _very_ well. Shepard wasn't use to being in such settings, and as her green eyes began to slowly scan the interior of the restaurant, she was shocked to see that the clientele was almost exclusively Asari, with a smattering of Turians, a couple of Drell, a few Salarians, and one lone Hanar set upon a hoverchair. The restaurant was opulent, to say the least, with colonnades holding up what appeared to be a real marble roof that gave the Parthenon a run for its money. Well-tended plants decorated the wall-less restaurant, a view of the Presidium and the Wards available on all sides, as well as that of the Widow Nebula itself as a backdrop. Shepard had never even heard of a wall-less restaurant, like the forums of old on Earth, but the sight of the Citadel and the Nebula as a view was simply breathtaking.

She felt very, very out-of-place.

"My usual table, Maiden." Tela Vasir spoke to the hostess in a polite tone, and shocked the hell out of Shepard when she slipper her blue arm into the crook of Shepard's. _Is she seriously holding my arm like a date!?_ Shepard couldn't believe, and wanted to say something, but a look from the Specter's cool face had her holding her tongue. Still, Shepard couldn't help but feel her anger growing as the hostess seemed to glide away from the podium, her graceful movements the very epitome of her kind. The human Marine couldn't help but feel like some strumpet whom had somehow found her way into a Jane Austin book as the Specter gently led her along, just like a man would with his date. She didn't like the thought or the comparison… until Shepard saw the stares that she was getting from a good deal of the patrons. For the way the Asari were looking at her, Shepard might have as well showed up in her bar-hoppers. Yet it was Tela Vasir that made the difference, gliding alongside the human Marine, her arm gently guiding Shepard along, that one look given from the Specter who glared at the Asari who were offering such dirty looks had them turing their attentions back to their meals. Shepard wasn't sure what to feel about that; she was grateful, of course, but she still felt like some downtown hussy brought to the uptown side of things, like Pretty Woman. The hostess led the both of them towards the 'table' in question, which Shepard found to be next to the edge of the restaurant, where there was no impediment of the view going down the five Ward arms of the Citadel and the Widow Nebula coloring the space sky. The Asari hostess bowed as she pulled out both seat for both the Specter and the Lieutenant, and the both of them took a seat. "Remarkable view, isn't it, Lieutenant?"

"I… yes, yes it is." Shepard replied, still reeling somewhat from Tela's earlier offer. Her mind was still spun about at the very thought of it. "I… I must confess that I normally fear the sight of stars after an incident where the Batarians destroyed the ship I was in, leaving me in a life pod for five days with only the wreckage, the corpses, and the stars as company. This… this is quite beautiful. I don't even think there's another building taller in this Ward." Shepard could tell, too; she was practically looking down the entirety of it!

"I come here to look at the Nebula to think on the things I must do, and reflect on the things I've done in the past." The Specter said, her eyes flickering back to the amethyst cloud of dust and ice, and then back to her. "Even as long-lived as we Asari are, we are but specks compared to the wonders that the galaxy beholds. I sometimes wonder how much of it we have truly seen, truly discovered? If I had to do it again, I would wish to be an explorer, to search the cosmos for its mysteries. Sometimes I wonder where those unmapped Relays really go, and what we might find beyond them."

"Why… don't tell me that underneath that tough exterior, there's a romantic in there?" Shepard teased her dining companion a little, getting the Specter to smile. "When I was in college, ah… advanced school," Shepard had to explain quickly when the Asari shook her head at the word _college_, "I took Architectural Engineering and Design as my Major. I remember my mother always telling me how to write down every idea, to draw out every thought, that I would never know what would be the one to save a life." Shepard smiled sadly at the memory. "My mother was actually one of the main designers of the Corvette-Class vessel, seeing the issues the Marines had getting to Shanxi on frigates and destroyers that were more interested in getting into space battles than depositing a bunch of grunts onto a planet. One fast-attack ship later, and we've got deployment vessels. Being able to make better armor or a better weapon for the military, to give us a better chance against pirates and slavers? Even if all it did was save one life, I'd consider it a worthy endeavor."

"Who's the romantic, now?" The Counsel Agent snorted as an Asari waitress approached their table, holding two haptic menus for them to look at. Shepard turned hers on, and wasn't surprised to see that the menu was heavily Asari, with some Turian dishes and Salarian choices. It seemed everyone else was meant to deal with it. Thankfully, most everything was written in Standard Galactic, which Shepard was fairly fluent in, though some words came without translations, assuming that the reader would know what it meant. "For me, I'll have the Shara on a bed of kelp, with a side of wild Tungi and Elois." Shepard was a little baffled by the order; she didn't understand _anything_ the Specter had ordered. "And a bottle of Kumini with two glasses, please."

"I, uh…" Shepard read the menu, and was at a loss; she could read it, but too many words were Asari-related, and it didn't explain what was a meat, a vegetable, or something completely alien. "Um, Tela? I don't know what any of these things are. There's no explanations if it's pork, or poultry, or anything." She felt really out-of-place, now.

"Try… the Vren Taka with crumble, with some Junoar." The Specter looked at her menu, thoughtfully. "It's a popular dish that the others seem to find to their liking." Shepard grunted, known that 'others' meant other species, save the Turians, of course. "I'm afraid I know nothing of human foods to even make a comparison."

"I'll try the Vren Taka." Shepard told the waitress, who bowed after taking their menus. "I… feel… so out-of-place here." She told Tela, who looked a little admonished. "I mean, I know you don't mean that, and I am grateful for being able to come here and see all this! I don't think I'd ever eat at a place like this, so I don't want you to think I don't appreciate it. It's just…" She looked around the restaurant, and still saw the looks, and Tela noticed as well. "It's obvious they think I'm some slumdog lover of yours, the gutter rat that gets to look at the china and be impressed."

"Fuck 'em." That had Shepard a little startled, hearing the Specter swear for the first time. It seemed completely natural to her. "Most of these _calshani_ are from long-lines and blood dynasties dating back from the time of who-fucking-cares? Tela Vasir, the little orphan girl abandoned in a slum on Illium by her Batarian father when her Asari mother died, likes to come here to rub it into some rich bitches' faces that even the slum…gogs?" The Asari couldn't say the word right, though it was obviously she got the reference. "People like us, Jane? We aren't limited by destiny or the opinions of others. Know your desires and seek them out. Best advice I've ever heard of in my six hundred galactic years. And don't be too hard on yourself, Jane Shepard. What you've accomplished in the past week is more than most will do in their entire lives. For a brief moment, the galaxy hinged on _your_ decisions, _your_ actions, _your_ beliefs. For but a moment of time, you were more important than the rest of us put together, whether you knew it or not. Can these self-centered _ashannis_ say the same? I think not."

"You… you really think what I did… was truly that important?" Shepard asked, a little surprised.

"Jane? I showed what you did to no less than a dozen Specters." Tela told her, surprising her even further. "Every single one of them expressed the same exact thought; that they had wished they could have been there, and they all agreed with what you did. If the best of what the galaxy has to offer approves of your actions, you can rest assure that you caught our attention. That was a Specter mission, through and through, and yet it was a human Marine leading her men that accomplished the task to the best of her abilities with little in the way of weapons and equipment and no real outside help save from your N team. If that had been a Counsel mission, you would have seen twenty Specters with the best equipment doing what you did, with a fleet of ships ready to orbital strike and bombard if necessary. You should be proud of yourself, Lieutenant. You accomplished a mission that would make most Krogan give up half their quad to be a part of. So these _calshani ashannis_? Fuck 'em. Every last one of them. Now where's the food? I haven't eaten since First Light, and I'm ready to sink my teeth into some Shara."

Dinner proved to be excellent.

2nd Lieutenant Jane Shepard had tried her Vren Taka, which ended up being very similar to a pork steak with a sweet breading, and the Junoar dipping sauce that was somewhere close to horseradish sauce, but sweeter as well. She learned that Asari had a high metabolism thanks to their natural biotics, and it seemed that a good many of their foods were sweet or oversweetened to make up for the caloric difference. All she knew was that another dinner like that and she'd be a diabetic in no time.

"So, have you thought of my proposal?" Tela Vasir asked her now that dinner was done, each of them enjoying a glass of Kumini, which was a berry wine that had a different taste than wine, but Shepard found to her liking.

"It is… still overwhelming." Shepard admitted without reservation, setting her glass down, feeling a little bit heady. She didn't need to get drunk in the middle of a posh Asari restaurant. "I mean, you've made mention that I am what you look for, but the question is will I still be what you are looking for in a few years time? I could have just gotten lucky, you know? Everything working in my favor."

"Please, Jane." The Asari snorted, shaking her head. "I've been a Huntress, a bounty hunter, an investigator, and a Specter for a little under five hundred galactic years. I know how to spot luck and skill. The fact that you defeated no less than three Asari by yourself is no mean feat. One of them was one of those filthy creatures, and they're generally considered some of the most dangerous beings in the galaxy. One does not take a numerically inferior force against such opposition and win by luck." Tela took another sip of her wine. "You've got the skills. Yes, they can be improved on, but the foundation is there. The foundation doesn't change."

"Tela… I… I don't even know what my future is going to be tomorrow, much less past that!" Shepard admitted, thinking of all she had done. "I'm taking on one of the largest human conglomerated corporations with evidence of illegal research and endangering lives by bypassing the Alliance completely and going straight to the Counsel. I could be court-martialed, for all I know."

"While I understand all that, I asked _your_ thoughts." The Specter reminded her, leaning forward in her turn, her body language serious. "I'm not saying it's absolutely going to happen tomorrow and kiss you folks good-bye. What I am saying is to think it over, and give me what you feel you should do. Do that, and you could very well be on your way to being a Specter, Jane. Humanity's First, at that. We teach you, we train you, we give you the tools you need and deserve to accomplish the missions that need done. Imagine hunting these bugs with the power of the Counsel at your back, Jane. You and your men fought bravely, but just one warship with some real equipment, and you wouldn't have had to make that call. Your men would be armed and armored as well, not some cast-off Alliance crap that can barely stop a round or punch through air. We got armor that has an electric static discharge that can stun, disable, or kill someone decides to get into a fistfight with us." The had the Specter smirking slightly, obviously recalling the fight Shepard had gotten into with the three Asari. "Say the word, and the Specter Office gets a letter of recommendation from me. It will get reviewed by three others, who will interview you at a later date. Then it goes to our Master Specter, who reviews it as well. He gives it his recommendation, and it goes to the Counsel. You could be a Specter recruit inside of a month, Jane. You don't even need to leave the Alliance if you don't wish. Humanity is a Counsel species, and the Alliance a Counsel government. All it takes is a few letters and you'll find that you'll be getting the training you need and the backing you deserve."

"I…" Shepard felt… so lost. It wasn't that she wasn't interested; the thought was beyond anything she could imagine! Yet she didn't want to feel like she was betraying the Alliance or her own kind. There was a reason why there were so few humans in C-Sec, so few ex-pat humans on other worlds not governed by the Alliance or some Corporate entity. The stigma of working with aliens, of being an alien-lover, was both dark and deep. The FCW had showed mankind that all those movies from the previous century of evil alien overlords waiting and willing to bombard humanity off the face of existence was true, and there was no lost love between Terrans and Palavenians. Even now, she felt uncomfortable being surrounded by so many different species, and Shepard always found herself looking about in the vain hope to see another human face, _any_ human face. A part of her was glad she didn't find one; if they saw her at a table with an Asari dressed like some concubine…

"Tela, I would like to talk to my adopted father about this, as well as my friends, if that's fine?" Shepard finally answered, looking to the Counsel Agent. "With everything that has been going on, I… I want to give this decision the weight it deserves, and not some spontaneous reply. I want… I need to hear from others of my own kind, Specter. If I do walk this road, it will be a very, _very_ difficult one for me. I may not even be welcomed back by my own kind if… if they think I did this just to jump ship and be with…" Shepard gestured to the restaurant's populous in general. "I need to find myself before I can give you the answer you deserve. I don't want to waste your time either way."

"That is an honest response I can respect and understand." The Specter replied with a knowing smile. "We as Asari have been a part of the galactic community for so long, we've forgotten what transitions an up-and-coming race can go through when they first appear. That you are willing to come here, with me, and deal with all this without giving into your species' fears and trepidation speaks well of you, Jane. I hope your answer is a favorable one, but I shall respect either answer you give me. In my mind, you have showed me that you are a Maiden of value and worth." Shepard nodded, and she knew that Tela Vasir was correct, it was just… strange, hearing such recognition from an alien. "So I have to ask, what is 'dinosaur'? Some human runner got nabbed by one of our Turian Agents, and the filth coming from his mouth was surprising. But I didn't know what a 'dinosaur' was."

"Oh! That's… something we call Turians behind their backs." Shepard looked around first before explaining, hoping no one in ear shot could hear her. "We had this species of cold-blooded lizards that evolved into birds that some species had a passing resemblance to, like the T-rex and the triceratops." To her horror, Shepard watched Tela access her Omnitool and open up a search window, typing in the words she said. Next thing the human Marine knew, the Specter was looking at pictures and videos of Tyrannosaurus Rex, laughing out loud as the dinosaur waved its too-short arms at something in frustration.

"Oh, Saren is just going to go get a itch under his plates when I start posting this on Spacebook with his likeness…"

The limousine ride back from Corella's was pleasant as 2nd Lieutenant Jane Shepard found herself easily conversing with Counsel Agent Tela Vasir, chatting about whatever random subjects came to mind. It was strange, in her mind, to have such an easy-going dialogue with… well, an alien. She had never really had much interaction with one before, certainly not being in the Alliance Military as a child, living from ship-to-ship. After a while, Shepard didn't even notice the blueness of Tela's face, the fine snake-like scales of her skin, or the crest on her head. It was like… it was like talking to another woman, someone from perhaps an exotic location, but with enough similarities that they had likes and dislikes that they could discuss without any awkwardness. Just sitting in a limo, Shepard going over some of the rules of Earth's Urban Competitive Combat, telling the Specter about the different players of her favorite team, the Edmonton Blood Dragons, one would never suspect they were of different species. Tela had her own favorites as well, and Shepard found herself curious about the Asari sport called Bioticball, which involved a fast-moving orb that bounced off of walls and ceilings, the court shaped in a polygon, and had some resemblance to volleyball. Shepard promised to herself that she'd check it out; no doubt, the guys back in the suite wouldn't mind watching some scantily-clad Thessians bouncing about on the entertainment monitor.

The Marine and the Specter slowly made their way back up, the elevator ride up to the penthouse going at a slow crawl it seemed as Shepard found herself looking out the window of elevator, looking out at the Citadel. She thought about the Specter's offer, about the possibility of being one herself. _Could… could I do that? Do I want to do that?_ The offer was something that she never would have dreamed about, and the possibility was head-spinning. Shepard assumed that she would be like her Pop, Captain Anderson; earn her way into N school, pushing herself to achieve her 7. That had been her ambition, and it was something she still wanted. Yet how often had she seen Anderson sigh so tiredly about some of the things the Alliance did, the way Corporate got involved. Humanity's First N7, and sometimes he was still treated like some thug with a gun by some suit with an agenda. Was that what she wanted out of her life, to be some Corporations' patsy, some clean-up girl? Hadley's Hope came to mind, and Shepard couldn't help but think how they were abandoned, sent there to die and left to rot. She didn't know whom she could trust save her Pop and Royce's Team Dingo. Was that the people she wanted to represent? To protect and defend? To possibly give her life for?

_If I became a Specter_, Shepard thought to herself quietly, looking out the elevator, _I could still serve humanity and the Alliance. Not some Corporate sleezebag interested only in profits and stocks, but someone who can represent _humanity_, not just whomever Corporate wants to send. Besides, sooner or later, it's going to happen. Who will the next candidate be, and who will they have ties to? Who will be their master?_ That thought came with a chill in her spine, Shepard thinking of some of the missions that Marines and the Navy did. They called it Asset Protection and Retrieval… to protect some suit who went off to the black to make some deals or meetings beyond the safety of Arcturus. It was the Alliance Military's job to make sure that the bureaucrat got there safely, and returned safely… even at the cost of the lives of the men and women in Blue. Was that what she wanted to be, to do, to die? Give up her life just so some flunky can make a meeting? Get a contract signed for a few extra interest percentages? A few Marines in previous boats that Shepard had been on when she was a kid had died just for those reasons. Did she want to be Corporate's catspaw? It would happen if she stayed in, sooner or later. If she became an N, it would be all but guarantee.

_Would it be worth it, then?_ Shepard mused to herself, leaning against the glass. If she became a Specter… wouldn't she be serving on the Citadel? Surrounded by aliens, forced to eat alien cuisine, suffer the same looks she had suffered at the Hotel and at the restaurant? Worse, what would other humans think of her? An opportunist that jumped ship the first chance she got, a traitor to her own kind? She had already handed the Counsel a whopper of intel on what Weyland-Yutani was doing, and Shepard had no idea what the repercussions or blowback would be for that. She could be hailed as a hero… or vilified throughout Alliance Space. Shepard could very well be court-martialed, her commissioned stripped away. She didn't doubt there wold be some to hound for their head, but Shepard hoped that the events that transpired on Hadley's Hope, the sick experiments being done, the actions that she saw had to happen, would convince Alliance Military Command that she had the authority to act in a manner proscribed. The possibility was there in her commission, but would Command see it that way? All it took was one Tribunal of hard-liners, alien-haters, or Corporate-pleasers to have her sentenced to military prison for the destruction of a human colony.

Why was nothing ever easy?

The elevator finally reach the penthouse suite, Shepard swearing that the conveyance was designed purposefully to be slow and annoying. The doors opened as she turned to exit the elevator…

…And found herself looking down the barrel of a human-held gun.

A/N: _Quinceanera - _A girl's traditional sweet Fifteen in Latino cultures. I totally forgot to explain this earlier. Sorry.

Chiton and peplos - actually ancient dresses, referring to a toga-style dress.

Yes I did reference a Julia Roberts movie in this chapter. I do apologize. The whole restaurant scene is almost a rip-off.

"And I'm telling you, son, that it ain't no fun, lookin' straight down a .44" - Ronnie Van Zant


	20. Chapter 20: Suckerpunch!

Disclaimer: BioWare owns Mass Effect. 20th Century Fox owns the _Alien_ franchise.

**WARNING!**If you have a medical condition, please take your meds before reading this chapter.

**Widow System, November 20, 2176**

2nd Lieutenant Jane Shepard was a military woman; born to Alliance parents, raised on Alliance ships, adopted by SpecOps warriors, and joined herself when she turned eighteen years old. She had spent years preparing herself for the day she would join the Alliance as a Cadet in OCS, taking classes as well as training her body. She learned the gun from some of the best, as well as how to fight. Shepard had taken three different disciplines of fighting; boxing, Muay Thai, and Judo. She was considered of advanced rank in each, having participated in several Alliance-sponsored bouts as a teenager aboard the fleets, proving herself in the Women's Octagon several times. The saying went, as far Marines went, was that one armed with a rifle was the most dangerous weapon in the galaxy.

Shepard was equally as dangerous with her hands.

As soon as the elevator opened, the man who had been standing on the other side of the doors had pointed his M-24 Harrier right at the women who had been on the conveyance, obviously intent to secure and detain. Shepard, upon realizing that there was a fully automatic gun pointed right at her face, reacted with the speed and precision of a fully-trained fighter, caring about nothing else other than her life was immediately in danger. Her left arm shot out, grabbing the stock of the Harrier and thrusting it upward as her right hand knuckled up and shot forward in a short, jabbing uppercut, a suckerpunch that she landed into the soft tissues of the man's throat. The punch, a short, vicious fist to the man's throat, landed with a gurgling smack, causing his eyes to immediately pop open in shock and pain as he instinctually let go of his rifle to grab at his injured throat, a horrible choking noise coming from his mouth as he sank to his knees.

The man's rifle was now in Shepard's hands.

The veranda that extended from the elevator was equally populated with human men, and Shepard's green eyes soaked in details as she moved forward, low and fast from the elevator. The seven men were armed and armored; something that C-Sec wouldn't normally allowed. Their armor wasn't Aldrin Lab's Onyx, standard for Alliance Military, nor was it the Elanus Risk Control System's Duelist Armor that C-Sec wore, the light-blue armor recognizable by just about anyone in the galaxy. It looked to be Devlon Industries' Survivor armor, white with black highlights and orange overtones, with a curious symbol on the breast of the armor; an octagon shape split into eight equal parts, alternating between red and white. Shepard had already moved two feet into the veranda, the seven armored men beginning to turn on her, raising their M-24 Harriers to get a bead on her when she raised her rifle first and fired.

The first of seven men went down in a boneless heap as the top of his skull disappeared.

Shepard dove to one side, sliding behind an obscenely large pottery vase that contained some Asari plant for cover, the sound of rounds impacting against ceramics and dirt on the other side of the pot indicating they were firing at her with full force. Shepard kept behind the pot, waiting for the lull of fire to indicate that the Harriers had gone through their heat sinks; a simple mistake thugs and muscle would make. The moment the firing stopped, Shepard pivoted with one knee on the ground, and opened up with her borrowed Harrier, firing at the two closest men, her rounds quickly shredding into their shields and armor, taking them down in seconds before she slipped back behind her cover. She then heard a curious sound, something that sounded like a strangled scream, and was shocked to see an armored man fly past her and her cover, slamming into a marbled wall hard enough to ensure that if he hadn't died immediately, then every bone in his body was likely broken. Tela Vasir, stuck in the same elevator, had opened up as well, using her natural biotics to eliminate the threat as well. Shepard rounded the corner once more, and saw that the three remaining men were _floating_ in the air, a blue-black orb of energy in between them. She wasted no time trying to figure it out as she aimed at the unprotected heads of the men, a short burst in each of their skulls. Within seconds, a total of eight assailants went to zero as Shepard stood up, seeing Tela Vasir exiting the elevator herself. The Asari relieved one of the men of his weapon, and then pressed something on her Omnitool.

"C-Sec's alerted." The Specter told Shepard. "Who are they?"

"I recognize the armor, but not the symbol." Shepard admitted, locking back her Harrier's bolt, ejecting the waste heat from its' heat sink. Thankfully, the goon she had taken it from had the weapon unlocked, and she could still use it. The weapon was good enough to be password protected, but not biolocked, otherwise she would be bringing her fists into a gunfight. "They must be here for my men, Tela. I aim to kill the whole lot of them. I hope that's not going be an issue."

"SpecterNet?" Tela raised up her Omnitool, the haptic device glowing red instead of its customary orange. That was new. "Temporary clearance for Lieutenant Jane Shepard, Level 1 access and licenses, authorization by Agent Vasir." The Omnitool chimed, and Shepard was shocked to see that her Omnitool popped up on its own, glowing red as well. _What the hell?_ Shepard thought to herself. "You're cleared for arms, armor, and anything for this current investigation now, Jane." The Specter told her with a nod and a smile. "I think you're going to enjoy what all of this will entail. For now, let's go rescue your friends."

Tela Vasir's words were emphasized by the sounds of gunfire from behind closed wooden doors.

* * *

Fury pulsed in her veins as 2nd Lieutenant Jane Shepard unlocked the door that led towards the suite that the Counsel had given her and her remaining platoon, the wooden doors opening on their own as she took to the wall beside it, using it for cover as gunfire erupted from the other side. Tela Vasir, on the other wall, armed with an M-24 Harrier, nodded once as she began to glow blue, indicating that she was ready. Shepard took a quick peak and saw seven men in the same kind of armor standing in the middle of the main room of the suit, their rifles raised in a direction that she couldn't see in, the wall blocking her view. What that told her was that her friends and family wouldn't be in the line of fire when she attacked.

Her first ten rounds came for free; the rest she would earn through gunfire.

Shepard stepped from her cover and fired a hard burst at the group of seven men, standing something close to a line, slightly staggered as her first rounds punched into the first man closest to her, punching through his shields and armor by the fourth shot. The second man, too, went down with her fire as Tela Vasir added her own burst, sweeping into the next set of men as she fired her Harrier at the humans, her blue glow sparking and solidifying as she was shot at. Shepard took back to cover as rounds punched into the wall she used for cover and the one across the hall from the door, having no protection as she was wearing only in her Asari dress. The gunfire concentrated on Vasir, who had to step back into cover, and Shepard took a two second firing position from her cover, firing another burst from her Harrier at the last two remaining men who hadn't been shot down yet, managing to disrupt the barriers of one of them, her round punching through his armor as he went down into a heap. The last man aimed at her… and then went flying towards the ceiling, smacking into the fresco painted upon it with significant force before falling the fifteen or so feet back to the floor, landing in a painful thud. Shepard had to wince at that one; she remembered how that had felt. She stood up from her cover, locking her Harrier's bolt back again, dispensing the heat in the sink as she approached the first several men they had shot. Shepard ensured that they wouldn't be getting back up again by putting a round in each of their heads.

"Royce? Stacy? Dwayne?" Shepard called out after she put a round through the last head of the seven men, looking at what they had been aiming at. Several round impacts were centered at one of the rooms, and she started walking towards it, seeing blood on the floor of the suite, her own blood going cold at the sight. The men had been armed and armored. Her men had not been. _Oh no…_ Shepard thought, reaching the ugly conclusion as she pushed the rest of the distance towards the suite's room.

She walked into the remains of a bloodbath.

Shepard immediately dropped the Harrier as she went to the first body she saw, that of Private Tip Crowe, lying on top of something with at least six shots to his back. She went to her knees to check on him, and was surprised that Crowe was, in fact, on top of somebody; Sergeant Rita Vrataski. The Full Metal Bitch was up, eyes looked at Shepard's as she covered a single gunshot wound to her side with one of her hands, the other clutching at the body of the dead Marine.

"He… he jumped in the way." Vrataski said in a quite voice, her words choked with grief. "He took the bullets for me." The way the N3 was clutching at Crowe, Shepard didn't doubt she wouldn't be letting him go anytime soon. "He saved my life." The woman didn't even bother wiping away her tears as she cradled Crowe's dead body, grieving for him.

She had to move on to see the others.

It seemed that everyone had been shot at least once, though it later proved to be not the case. The room had been used as storage for the Marines and N's, bringing up their personal equipment from the _Cheyenne_. Military boxes made of polyurethane were stacked neatly, and two of them had been opened, the ones containing M7 Lancers. Shepard didn't know what happened, but at some point in time, everyone had come to this room to defend themselves from their attackers, and some had armed themselves.

The next two casualties she ran into were Staff Sergeant Victor Kreig and Private Mark Drake, each holding Lancers, their bodies shot multiple times. In front of them had been no less than six other humans dressed in their black and white armor with orange trim, equally shot down. Two unarmored Marines against six goons, and they had died defending the rest of them, putting themselves into harm's way to keep the bullets from reaching those that weren't armed. Shepard felt her heart break as she looked upon their bodies, laying side by side, their faces serene, peaceful. They had died, but there wasn't a look of regret upon either of their faces, despite the half a dozen shots they must of taken each.

Behind the stack of crates were the rest of her platoon and Royce's team, bunkered down behind the polyurethane cases, not strong enough to stop a round, but some type of cover was certainly better than none. Captain Royce Mason laid on the ground, grunting in pain with what looked to be what was left of a Saber in his hand, the gun seeming to have exploded. A thousand cuts decorated his left and right arm, as well as his chest and face, not to mention the bullet wound that was in his right shoulder as well. Master Chief Stacy Valentino was working with her hands to patch him up, having been shot in the arm herself, a Lancer by her side. Corporal Dwayne Hicks, holding his Disciple Shotgun in one hand, and his side from a gunshot wound in the other, was moving to a line of other bodies, five other men in the same armor who had tried flanking the makeshift barricade to kill the rest of the 343 Mobile Infantry and Team Dingo. PFC Jeanette Vasquez was crotched over PFC Bill Hudson, the squad technician laying on the ground unconscious, a nasty shot that grazed the side of his head. Behind them were the remaining three civilians; her grandmother, Ellen Ripley, Rebecca Jorden, and Lance Bishop.

Bishop laid dead next to a goon in black and white armor, a knife in the man's chest, the Science Officer with a gunshot to his heart.

"That man came from out of nowhere," Ripley began, her grief working into her words as she saw Shepard standing there, observing all, "tried grabbing Newt. Bishop just grabbed the nearest thing to him… and…

"He grabbed a Ka-bar and saved Newt." The woman finally finished, her breath released in a rush, clutching the little girl in her arms. "Just as the man shot him, Bishop put a knife in his heart."

"C-Sec is on their way." Shepard finally said through numb lips, the reality of it all crashing into her, sapping away at her strength and her resolve. For more dead… why? What was the point of that? Crowe, Kreig, Drake… they had survived LV 426 when so many of their companions hadn't, had died defending the same people in a brazen attack, but to what purpose? Who were these men? Why were they trying to kill them? It was then that Shepard realized that they were one short.

"Where's Carter?" She finally asked, realizing that she didn't see Burke. Had he died?

"Shepard, he's… he's gone." Hicks finally said, the looks on everyone else's face saying that a spot of bad news was about to come. Even Shepard could tell that no one wanted to tell her by the way their faces were set. _Gone_ didn't sound like _dead_, or _kidnapped_. _Gone_ sounded like…

"He betrayed us?" Shepard asked, her voice breaking slightly, looking at Dwayne, his features falling as he slowly nodded, obviously not enjoying being the one to tell her. "I need to know what happened, Dwayne." Hicks was looking at the door with wide eyes, and Shepard turned to see Tela Vasir staring at everything with wide eyes, her Harrier wisely pointing at the ceiling. "It's okay, she's a Specter. She helped me take out the men by the elevator and the ones in the main room. I want to know everything, Hicks. _NOW._" She emphasized, and the Corporal sighed.

"They busted in while we was eating dinner." Vasquez started, her tone ugly. "Held us up, moved us over by the wall. Bunch of _pendejos_."

"When they were lining us up, they talked about waiting for you." Hicks added, looking at Shepard. "Burke… Burke had already turned at that point in time, telling them where you went, about what time you should have been back, the works. I guess he's the one who told them where to find us. They were going to kill us all. That's when Royce decided to take on… seven or eight at once. Stacy started pulling us into the room, and we began arming ourselves and defending ourselves, and…" The Corporal looked at everything around them; the blood, the bodies, the bullet holes. "You came in about a minute after the shooting started."

"How long since he's been gone?" Shepard asked, her mind spinning. Carter… betrayed them? To these men? She didn't even know who they were! Why? The knife in her heart would just have to wait for later. "How long, Dwayne?"

"Five minutes, maybe?" Hicks replied, guessing. "Through the front door."

"The elevator." Shepard realized, and she smiled. "The very long elevator." She turned to Tela Vasir, who had been watching on. "We can meet him in the lobby if you don't mind doing a little sightseeing."

"Um, what are you planning?" Valentino asked, looking up from her work, Royce's wounds slowly being covered with make-shift bandages. "What did I tell you on the shithole, Janey? No heroic bullshit."

"Yes, Auntie." Shepard replied, completely ignoring her. "_Brynhildr_, activate." One of the cases opened up as Shepard's Serrice Counsel armor configured itself for her to put it on, standing erect. She walked over to it and slid into her armor, setting herself inside. "Engage connections." In five seconds, the armor closed up around her, engaging the locks and seals that would secure her inside, ready for combat and EVA. She then went to the case and pulled out the Specter Gear Mark VII Assault Rifle, the Mark X Pistol, and the A-33 Ardat submachine gun, sliding each into place. She then took the Kuwashii visor and placed it on her left ear, the VI engaging with her armor and her weapons, already performing a self-diagnostic test that indicated everything was in the green.

"Janey! I'm serious!" Stacy used her big girl voice in the hopes that Shepard would be intimidated, but with no effect. Shepard continued to another case, marked 'Team Dingo' on it. She opened up the case and grabbed a specific type of utility belt, yellow in colored and called 'the Batman belt'. Shepard slipped the belt onto her armor, and the visor's VI immediately linked into it, readying it for voice activation. "Jane Catherine Shepard! You put that jumpbelt back where you found it!"

"I will, Auntie. As soon as I put my foot up someone's ass." Shepard replied, moving out of the room, ignoring the strange looks that she was getting from some of her platoon members. "Tela, you might want to grab some armor for yourself. You're wearing a… oh, never mind." Shepard saw the Asari glow blue biotically, indicating that armor wasn't strictly a necessity for her. "Okay, then. Grab your gullet and hope your Shara doesn't come back up."

"What exactly are we doing?" The Specter asked as Shepard moved to one of the suite's bay windows that gave a view of the Citadel. Shepard unshipped her Mark X pistol and put five rounds into it, shattering the window, the broken ceramic glass cascading all over the floor.

"Base jumping. You're going to love it." Shepard replied with a smile as she slipped her around around the Asari's waist, pulling the Thessian close enough that her body was pressing into Shepard's armor, close enough to be lovers. "You might want to put your feet on my boots and hold on tight. First time's the best." Tela squawked as Shepard picked her up and proceeded to walk out of a two hundred story window.

* * *

Falling. The sensation was usually one of terror or exhilaration as wind buffeted at the body as the speed of descent increased with every meter dropped. Within three seconds, a falling body would achieve fifty percent of terminal velocity, falling at twenty-seven meters per second. By the eighth second, they were falling at forty-nine meters a second and still plummeting downward. If there had been enough distance, maximum velocity would be achieved at fifteen seconds, falling at fifty-four meters a second straight towards the ground.

2nd Lieutenant Jane Shepard loved base jumping.

Having been raised by N's for a majority of her life, Shepard practically grew up an N herself. Whenever it came time for Captain Anderson's team to re-cert some of their qualifications, Shepard would come along to watch. When she got older, she begged and pleaded to join in on some of the 'safer' activities, like skydiving, deep-sea diving, hang-gliding, and the rocket packs. Rhys Lewellen, a bear of an N5 who had taught her how to fly the rocket pack, had once told her that she'd have the easiest N course when she applied, knowing more than any other N recruit, as well as having experienced it herself. She already had a physical regimen that surpassed the basic N course, doing some three hundred push-ups a day, three hundred sit-ups, three hundred bodyweight squats, forty-five pull-ups, and flat out sprints that almost equaled a kilometer. So when she decided to walk off a building at six hundred and seventy meters up, Shepard knew what she was doing.

Her visor kept track of time until impact.

Holding onto the body of Counsel Agent Tela Vasir tightly, Shepard activated the jump belt at the halfway point of falling, the belt set up on the theory of continuous acceleration/deceleration principle. If it had been a fast drop, Shepard would have had the belt configured for the fifty meter setting, chancing for massive shock inclusion from pulling so many G's. She was wearing a hard suit, but the Specter was not, not to mention she was simply holding on. So Shepard went for the easier, safer method of acceleration/deceleration, where the jumpbelt's mass effect field would decelerate them at a constant rate in the exact opposite speed as they had started, slowing them down gradually at first and them increasing with the shortened distance until they reach the ground, in which the belt would dump them off at half a meter above ground. At that point in time, Shepard would be able to engage any kind of targets as necessary, even though she would be appearing to hover a few few off the ground for a second. The armor would help with that, as well as Vasir's biotics.

All Shepard knew was that she had to catch up to Burke before he disappeared.

The ground closed up quickly on them as Shepard watched the altimeter on her visor grew closer to zero, the numbers shedding away slower the closer they got. A moment before they hit the ground, the jump belt stopped Shepard and Tela Vasir completely half a meter before reaching the ground, switching off so that they landed on their feet with cat-like grace. Shepard smiled as she looked at the Asari Specter, who returned her look with a wide-eyed one of her own.

"Well, if you didn't slam your eyes shut and piss your pants, I'd say you passed your night jump qualification." Shepard told the Thessian with a grin, Tela merely gaping at her in horror.

"You lunatic! You flung us off a high-rise!" The Specter shouted, obviously agitated. "I could have just lowered us with biotics!"

"You can do that?" Shepard was pretty amazed; she had no idea. "But can you hold that if someone were shooting at us?" That had Tela stop and grudgingly admit that the Marine had a point. "VI? Locate Corporate Data Transmitter for one Burke, Carter J. Bring up on-screen with distance, speed, and trajectory when located." In two seconds, a marker was brought onto her visor's viewer, with a compass marking. "Range 3.32 thousand meters, moving at 84 meters per second. Fuckers are flying." Shepard announced, looking about where they landed in front of the Hesperiidae Hotel, the patrons all standing at a wide berth from the human and Asari that had fallen from the sky; one dressed in battle armor, the other in a dress. "We're gonna need a ride."

"Leave that to me." Tela smiled as she went to the valet of the Hotel, a Turian who suddenly looked very aware that the Specter was going to accost him first. "You know who I am? Good. Give me the fastest thing you can reach the quickest, and put my name on it."

"Right away, Agent!" The Turian fired off quickly, pressing a few buttons at his console, and Shepard was surprised to see that aircars were kept in a sort of storage space _under_ the landing strip, parked in a slot and stored vertically in the ground. One of the storage columns came up about eight units high, and Shepard's eyes went wide at the one that was at ground level, obviously meant for them.

"Is that what I think it is? A Cipritine Ghost?" Shepard asked, looking at the very sleek, very fast, Turian red super sports aircar that was beyond expensive. The damn thing was rated to go at 1,000 kph! Tela just smiled as she opened up the gull-wing door of the Ghost, keying up her red Omnitool and turning the vehicle on using her Specter access. The Thessian activated the storage unit's release mechanism, the grav-lock on the Ghost releasing the sports aircar as she drove it horizontally, pivoting it expertly to where Shepard now faced its passenger door, the gull-wing opening from the inside.

"Get in, Maiden. And don't forget to grab your gullet; the first time's the best." Tela smiled evilly, making Shepard snort as she climbed into the Cirpritine, closing the door behind her. She slapped the safety restraint on quickly as the aerodynamically-designed sports aircar shot to the sky, the Specter smiling as her hands were placed at the Ghosts' yoke, cracking her fingers before she wrapped them around the handles. "I should probably mention this, but I'm a bit of a chase enthusiast." The Specter said slyly.

"Good old-fashion chase scene? This beats _Cops_!" Shepard hooted, feeling her adrenaline pumping. "Once more unto the breach, dear friend, once more."

* * *

The military cadence went that Jesse James said before he died that there were five kind of things that he wanted to ride.

If Jesse James lived in the 22nd Century, 2nd Lieutenant Jane Shepard was pretty sure that the Cipritine Ghost would have made the top of that list.

Counsel Agent Tela Vasir rocketed the Cipritine for all it was worth, racing at a speed in excess of 900 kph, passing by motorists in their aircars as if they were standing still. The Ghosts' collision alarm was constantly blaring as the Asari flew in a lane that was reserved for traffic going in the opposite direction, Shepard having given her VI the order to display the tracking location of Burke's Corporate Data Transmitter onto the Ghosts' haptic display unit, showing it on the super sports aircars' windshield in a HUD layout, giving location, distance, and trajectory. Tela was all smiles as she flew the Cipritine like a maniac, weaving through traffic that was heading right towards them, any type of collision certainly to be deadly to both parties as the Specter handled the Ghost with grace and precision. There were a few close calls already to where Shepard was sure that the red paint job on the Turian-made aircar was warped due to proximity to another vehicle, yet there had yet to be one actual collision.

"Is there anything we can do besides shooting them down?" Shepard asked as Tela narrowly avoided a cargo lifter before turning the aircar vertical to fit it in between two other motorists. She almost had the impression of the shocked looks on the other drivers as they flew by in the opposite direction. "I want Burke alive, if only so I can watch the fucker breath blood." The rage inside her was a living, hateful thing, threatening to take over. Betrayed, getting her men killed, trying to get away with it… none of that would stand. Shepard didn't even care why, she could fill in the blanks later at her leisure, or have the STG do it. But as of now, he was an active threat. And there was only one way to deal with such.

"If we can get the registration number of their aircar, we can shut it down with our Specter access codes." The Counsel Agent replied, dodging another vehicle. "That's tricky at best, though."

"This Mark VII has a disruptor effect on it. What will happen if I use that on an aircar? Will it disrupt its navigations?" Shepard asked, making the Asari ponder. Disruptors were meant for barriers and electronics, meant to fry out the circuitry and VI-processing chips.

"Never tried. Never heard it tried, either." The Thessian answered finally with a shrug, narrowly avoiding another aircar with a tight barrel roll, making Shepard slightly queasy. "Could work, in theory. What else we got?"

"Seats." That had Tela shake her head, grumbling. It wasn't like Shepard picked the car! She could see on the aircar's HUD that they were less than a kilometer away as they merged into a heavy traffic lane, finally traveling in the right direction. The posted lane route for the throughway was thoroughly ignored by the Counsel Specter, her Omnitool immediately flashing red as she blatantly broke the law by driving outside the posted lane. Anyone else would have had their aircar shut down and set to hover for C-Sec to deal with. Shepard was a little shocked to see hers pop up as well, her Omnitool still showing red with her temporary Specter access. The Thessian drove just outside the cylindrical route, the heavy traffic moving at a crawl of 200 kph, while they screamed by at just over 900 kph, the distance between them and their quarry rapidly shrinking.

"Unless we're planning to get the checkered flag, we need to think about how we're going to stop them!" Shepard shouted as the distance closed to three hundred meters, Vasir finally slowing the vehicle down to a more reasonable speed. Shepard scoped out the scene, seeing what looked to be bumper-to-bumper traffic flowing at 200 kph with no off-ramps in sight. "Hell, they're sitting ducks if we play this right. Vasir? Put us right on top of their car."

"Why do I have a feeling that whatever you're about to do is going to have your humans very pissed at me?" The Specter asked as she flew right over the marker, the vehicle being a slick black BMW Mark 15 Luxury. It screamed 'Corporate' in Shepard's mind, and a few of those blank spaces that needed answers came in; Burke was returning back to Corporate. But he knew Weyand-Yutani would be a sinking ship, so why would he go back there? She scanned the BMW, and got the registration of the vehicle. The first time she tried to look it up, it came back as 'CLASSIFIED - SEE HUMAN AMBASSADOR FOR ACCESS'. Shepard snorted as she turned on her red Omnitool and offered her temporary Specter Access code, and the redaction went away.

The name that came up filled Shepard's veins with ice water.

"Oh shit." Shepard swore as she saw the name of the Corporation. Of course she recognized it; just about any N or Corporate Goon who could read or look at a picture knew who _they_ were. Weyland-Yutani was a very powerful Corporation, had a voting member in the Committee, and influenced a great deal in the Alliance, yet they were only in the top ten. The name she was looking at was at the very top. If _they_ were involved…

"Tela… we might have to let them go."

"_What?_" The Thessian asked, turning to her, her face smoothing out as she looked at Shepard. "Is it bad?"

"If they're involved… the Alliance is tanked." Shepard replied, her lips numbed as the reality of it hit her badly. "They're the premiere manufacture of all spaceships the Alliance uses; military, civilian, transportation, cargo… everything that flies. But they got their hands in everything! Weapons, armor, medical, research and technology, terraforming, recycling, quantum studies… the list is more than I can even guess at! They are responsible for about 70% of _everything_ for humanity, Tela! If we continue this, and we find out they're dirty, too… if the Counsel shuts them down…" Shepard could feel herself shaking, the implications dire, dire indeed. "That car holds the man responsible for murdering my friends. But if capturing him means humanity as a whole suffers…. I can't do it, not in good faith. It would be like taking away all biotics from Asari, or guns from the Turians. They're too much a part of who we are and what we need to survive!"

"You're… you're serious!" The Thessian exclaimed, surprised. "How bad would the repercussions be?"

"Total government and economic collapse of Earth and all its major and secondary colonies." Shepard replied immediately, no doubt in her voice or in her mind. "The Military will lose its funding immediately, and there won't be patrols to protect our people. Food riots, energy crisis, slavers and pirates picking off our colonists at leisure, a complete breakdown of society itself… we wouldn't recover. Earth would be shot back about two to four hundred years as a whole, and the Gods know how many people will die in the process." She explained, and the Specter just looked at her, amazed. Shepard was deadly serious, and she could tell that Tela was taking her just as seriously.

"_Kamala_." The Specter said, and the way she said it, Shepard was pretty sure it was an Asari curse. "What would shooting down the aircar do?"

"It might piss them off, probably land on me, that's all." Shepard guessed, thinking it over. "Most humans have never even heard of them, and don't even realize just how important they are. They might just chock it up as a calculated risk and walk away, a venture with no gain. I don't even know if they're actually involved. It could be that they're trying to hire Burke for his knowledge, and they're actually innocent of LV 426. But… it can't get out."

"Well…" The Asari drummed her fingers on the yoke, her eyes looking over to the black BMW, "the way I see it? This is a human concern, and it requires a human's decision. Whatever you decide, Maiden, I shall back up your play."

"Thank you." Shepard closed her eyes, fighting the dread that was within her. "Visor? Remove previous identification from memory, and label as unregistered." The VI in her visor complied as the information was erased, existing only in her mind. Tears fought their way into her eyes as Shepard clenched her fist hard, hard enough to make her knuckles crack and her hand ache as she said words that she would never, ever thought she would ever have to utter.

"Please let them go."

* * *

The Cipritine Ghost pulled into an empty lot nearby where the chase had ended, being the top of a roof of a megacomplex of apartments. The Turian super sports aircar landed on the roof, and the passenger gull-wing door opened up, 2nd Lieutenant Jane Shepard exiting the vehicle quickly as she made a beeline for the nearest edge, grabbing onto the side of the partition that would keep her from falling off as she leaned over and threw up. Thankfully, nothing came out, but the gagging and heaving still wracked her body as she felt the stress and the horror of the past hour come crashing onto her, the adrenaline now faded as the numbing shock that followed fatigued her limbs and left her in a cold sweat. She found herself turning around, sliding down the premacrete partition, sitting on the roof's top as tears flooded her eyes and grief overwhelmed her. What she did, what she had to do? She knew it was necessary.

But she still felt like shit.

Shepard was only partially aware that the Counsel Agent Tela Vasir was sitting next to her, blissfully silent as she cried, feeling her soul twist inside of her. Someone had gone in to kill all her friends and remaining family… and she just let go the only link of who would do such a thing and why. Shepard would never know what Carter Burke was planning, if he had known all along, or if he had jumped ship like some Corporate scumbag. She had trusted the man! She… she had to admit that she had feelings for him, too. How many times had he pulled his own weight at Hadley's Hope, discovered things for her, unlocked things for their investigation? Had it all been a ploy for access, aligning his purpose to theirs so as to completely erase any suspicion by being the willing cohort? If that were the case, then Carter Burke was a ruthless master manipulator of a dress that Shepard could only loathe. How could she have been duped by him? And then she had let him go, his escape complete under her very eyes.

"Sorry." Shepard finally told the Specter sitting next to her, wiping at her eyes as she glumly looked at the roof in front of her, looking at it, but not really seeing it. "I… today I just betrayed myself for the sakes of a Corporation."

"No, you did not." Tela replied softly, her blue-violet eyes looking into Shepard's own green eyes, her tone quite but serious. "There comes a time when, as a warrior, you are forced to decide whether or not killing the enemy immediately in front of you is the better path or not." The Agent looked away for a moment, obviously reminiscing. "A few galactic decades ago, I was responsible for the dissolution of a slave-trading ring Aegohr, a Salarian colony on Nasurn. It was pretty simple stuff; go in, find the scum, clean them out, release the slaves. A good day's work." Tela returned to looking at Shepard. "One of the slaves was a dangerous murderer, a terrorist-for-hire who had destroyed at least three transportation vessels, and hijacked at least two others for the purpose of ransom. Sometimes during the confusion of me killing slavers and freeing slaves, this wonderful Salarian by the name of Jertar Zazon, had constructed some sort of detonator charge on the last ten slaves I had set to save, all children. If I went after him, he would kill the children. If I went for the children, Jertar would escape into the black." Shepard found herself looking at Tela Vasir, who was looking right back at her.

"You… didn't go for the children, did you?" Shepard realized, figuring it out. If the Asari had, she probably would have mentioned it.

"No, Jane. No I did not." The Thessian confirmed, looking away, closing her own eyes. "I know what I did was the right thing at the time, but was it the right _choice_?" The Agent looked back at Shepard, and she could see that even after all those years, it still hurt Tela Vasir to think of it. "I… regret that day. Every day. In everything I do, I think of that moment, and strive to be a better Matriarch because of it. Would have letting Jertar go been the better choice? I cannot say. I do not doubt that he would continue with his schemes and plots, but whose to say that someone wouldn't have just simply shot him the next day, thinking him a liability? Or perhaps that the near-brush of slavery finally made him change his mind? He may have been guilty, but those seven Turian hatchlings and three Asari daughters were most definitely innocent, and yet it was they who were punished."

"Why are you telling me this?" Shepard asked politely, looking to the Asari.

"Because there are days when there will be no right answer, no clear choice, no easy way." Tela replied, her tone soft. "On days such as those? On days such as this one? You do what you just did, Jane. You look at your facts, you decide what it best, and you learn to live with your decision. You could have shot that car down, endangering other motorists, and potentially bring severe ramifications to your people. Would that have been worth the justification of the lives of your men? Even the remote possibility of those ramifications?"

"No." Shepard replied quietly, looking at her booted feet. "It's not worth it. I don't know if they'd understand or agree with me, but I know it isn't."

"Then you made the right choice, Maiden. That is what matters." The Counsel Agent replied, and to Shepard's surprise, she leaned over and gave her a slight kiss on her forehead. "In Asari culture, a Matriarch who kisses a Maiden's brow is receiving her blessing and approval. No matter what, Jane Shepard, you have a friend in me."

"I… thank you." Shepard felt a little embarrassed about that, but not in a bad way. "And just so you know, kissing someone's head in human culture is a sign of affection."

"Ah. That explains the look you gave me." Tela smiled, chuckling. "Your face matched the color of your crest. I didn't know humans could be so… colorful. Ah! There it is again! Your cheeks are doing it!"

"Tela!" Shepard cried out in admonishment, watching as the Asari began to laugh, and Shepard soon began to laugh with her. "This has been one hell of a day. I… I need to go back… bury my men and see to my wounded." The laughter and the mood died away quickly enough, but Shepard found that the Specter had taken one of her armored hands with her own blue one, and gave it a squeeze of assurance.

"Then let us go, my friend."

* * *

Despite sitting in the ultra fast Cipritine Ghost, the ride back to the Hesperiidae Hotel was a slow, quiet one where 2nd Lieutenant Jane Shepard sat in the passenger seat, numbly looking out the passenger door window while resting her chin on her knuckles, propping up her head on a day that seemed so much on par with all the others since she first arrived at LV 426. She wasn't looking forward to returning to the Hotel, to the four bodies of her friends, to the remaining ones who would ask questions and get lies for answers. Tela Vasir had done her best to reassure Shepard of her own choices and decisions, but ultimately she would have to live with it. She just needed to figure out how. Thankfully, the Counsel Agent remained quiet during the ride, neither filling the silence with unnecessary talk or uncomfortable questions. The Thessian hadn't even asked who it was that Shepard had discovered the BMW Mark 15 had belonged to, trusting her judgment. It said a lot about the Asari… something Shepard never would have thought about in an alien before. Hell, she couldn't say the same about most humans, either!

_I feel like I'm about to go to war with my own race,_ Shepard thought quietly, seeing the buildings floating by serenely as Tela piloted the Ghost like any proper driver would, keeping with the flow and direction of traffic, staying in the proscribed flying lanes. She watched on without any real recognition, a mere observer of life as the thoughts in her mind broiled. She knew too much, too much for her to process by herself, too much for her to make sense of it all. But who could she trust with such information? The fate of Earth could very well rest in her hands… and the hands of anyone else that she might involve.

_Can't tell Royce, or Stacy, or Pop_. There was no doubt in her mind about that. All three of them were N7's, and would know the implications. They were the reason Shepard even knew who _they_ were. She loved her Pop, her Uncle and her Auntie, but Shepard couldn't say what they would do with such information as she had. They were N's… and N's defended the Alliance with their very lives. _They_ were as much the Alliance as the military was, and they would recognize the same threat that Shepard had herself. What would they do? She might trust them with her life, but this information was more than just her life; it involved so many others, and blood had already been spilled for it. Her men, too, couldn't be told. They had been through enough, suffered enough. Shepard doubted anyone them would know who _they_ were, and once told, she didn't doubt they would do something rash or stupid like babbling or trying for some half-cocked revenge. Who could she trust with this information? Who could be told that wouldn't immediately run to the Corporations, run to the aliens, run into trouble, or run to the hills?

It took her a few moments, but Shepard realized she did, in fact, know somebody who might just be helpful.

"_Wo de tian-a_." Shepard spoke to no one in particular.

The elevator ride was slow coming back up from the lobby of the Hesperiidae Hotel, a fleet of C-Sec vehicles populating its valet lane and lot. Walking through the lobby in full battle gear might have amused Shepard before, but she found that she could give a shit less about the looks the human Marine walking through the middle of a posh alien hotel was receiving from its hoity-toity guests. Together, Shepard and Vasir waiting in the elevator, and Shepard found herself dreading the opening of its doors at the penthouse level. The last time they had done so, she had a M-24 shoved in her face, and her men were under attack. Who knew what she would find on the other side now?

The doors opened, and Shepard found herself looking upon the organized chaos of a crime scene.

"Oh! Specter Vasir." A male Turian in ERCS Duelist Armor colored in what was known as 'C-Sec Blue' approached the elevator from around several technicians garbed in worker's clothing, each wearing non-static gear as they worked the veranda for evidence. Tela's Omnitool flashed red, indicating that she had entered into a restricted area, her Specter Access activated, as well as Shepard's. The Turian stopped mid-stride when he saw the human Marine, fully armed and armored, possessing a red-colored Omnitool as well. His mandibles flared open, probably the Turian version of surprise, as they came back into place, quivering. That one, Shepard had no idea. "Um… Agent?" The Turian looked pretty uncomfortable, and Shepard realized why; if he were C-Sec, then he had to defer to her, but he obviously didn't know of any human 'Specters'. She saw the holographic badge on the right side of his chest, where a Turian heart laid, as well as the holographic name displaying 'Chellick'.

"Shepard will do, Detective Chellick." She replied, and she saw that the Turian nodded at that. "My men?"

"All at Huerta Hospital, under C-Sec protection." Chellick replied, bringing up his Omnitool for updates. "Two of them are in critical condition, the rest are either under standard treatment or are released. As for your enemies?" The Turian took one look to some of the bodies that were still being catalogued by whatever C-Sec considered CSI. "They're with the Spirits now, or… whatever it is that humans believe in."

"Hell would be a good start." Shepard growled.

"Has any positive identification been made, Detective Chellick?" Tela asked, looking to the bodies as well. "I count twenty-five humans armed and armored in one of the most secured parts of the Citadel. That alone is alarming. How they made it this far, considering the Presidiums' tech-alerts, as well as the Hotel's IFF transmitters, would be interesting to know."

"So far, nothing." The Turian Detective sighed, his taloned hand fingering a part of his fringe, and Shepard merely took it for a Turian's version of rubbing the back of one's head or so other form of nervous tic. She could tell that it disturbed him. "The weapons should have set off every alarm in C-Sec, not to mention the upgrades to them as well."

"Cybernetics augmentations and genemods?" Shepard asked, knowing that both were illegal by Citadel law, but both were commonplace in the Alliance. Cybernetic prosthetics were slowly becoming ratified by the Counsel as a medical benefit, something that the Alliance would benefit from considering the Turian military had something like ten percent of it's military with some form of crippling injury. Genemods were distributed to practically every human born period; immune system booster, genetic defect correction, cancer suppressant, metabolism regulation and blood flow enhancement, rather benign stuff that improved quality of life as well as life expectancy. Alliance military received even more; nerve stimulant and coordination enhancement, muscular regeneration and calcium density booster, as well as neural pathway increase, all made to make every member of the military a little faster, a little better, a little stronger, and quicker to heal minor aches and pains. It gave a three percent increase in a wide variety of tasks that all sailors and Marines did. N's got an even more extensive, much more expensive work-up. "Are we talking someone with a missing leg and an anti-rejection mod? Or are we talking a sub-dermal weave and a regen pack?"

"Sometimes, you humans really do scare me." Chellick shook his head, looking back at Shepard. "Most were reinforced with outer mechanical augmentations meant for… paramilitary matters. Enhanced strength looks to be the main idea. The genemods through our scanners on the loop, and we're not sure what most of it meant. It definitely wasn't the general illegal round up we find in humans that the Counsel looks the other way about since your species has been doing it for a few decades before the Relay 314 Incident." Shepard grunted at that noncommittally, not wishing to start a debate or a discussion on the merits or pitfalls of genetic modifications. It had been an on-going pissing contest between the Citadel and the Alliance.

"Can I see the read out? Perhaps you need… a human's perspective." Shepard offered, making the Turian's mandibles quirk before he handed over a datapad. It was obvious that Chellick didn't like the idea, but he was doing it anyhow. At least he was giving her the benefit of the doubt. The datapad turned on, immediately going to its classified screen, which Shepard waved her red Omnitool over, unlocking it. The Turian grunted at that. Shepard began reading the list of scanned genetic modification markers that C-Sec had detected on the men that had attacked her platoon, and she began to bite her lip as she read through them. "Shit… I didn't even know some of these were fully tested. I think this one is still in prototype stage. This one I've never even _heard_ of before. This is extremely high-grade stuff, Detective. N7's don't even get this level of treatment."

"Black market?" Tela Vasir asked, curious, but Shepard slowly shook her head.

"Black mods have side effects, usually some very scary ones." She replied. "This wasn't cooked in some jelly-addicts' basement with a beaker and a bunsen burner. This is top-of-the-line, biogenetic's lifetime dream kind of stuff. This one here?" Shepard pointed out to one of the lines, and both Chellick and Tela moved to look at the one she had identified. "This one says 'muscular tensile strength enhancement'. N's get that for a boost in strength, giving them… I dunno, a ten percent increase? But this one's practically off-the-chart. Like arm wrestling a Turian and winning off-the-chart. Skin thickeners and hardeners? Calcium silicate deposits? Twitch muscle fiber response enhancement? This… this is very disturbing." Shepard pursed her lips for a second, staring at the datapad. "I think these guys are Ayrans."

"Ayrans?" Chellick asked, confused. "I don't speak human. What does that mean?"

"Eugenics program in a previous century to create the perfect human through breeding." Shepard explained, thinking of the Nazis of the early twentieth. "I think someone went and did it with genemods and cyberhancements. Very expensive genemods and cyberhancements. These aren't your general run-of-the-mill goons or scum. These guys are Corporate Security Services, only guys I know who could possibly tote this kind of wetware."

"Corporate Security Services?" Tela Vasir asked, confused. "Aren't they just bodyguards for some of your higher level government officials?"

"On bright, cheerful, sunny days? Yes." Shepard handed the datapad back to Detective Chellick. "On the not-so-nice days? They're practically cyborg ninjas. I'm surprised we greased them. One of these guys should have turned you and me to lunch meat, Tela. But what people like you and me earn through hard work and practice, they get through surgery and injections. They lack the discipline."

"And discipline overcomes strength." Chellick nodded, getting her point. "Still, twenty-five _unregistered_ humans fully armed and armored arriving on the Citadel shouldn't be possible." To that, Shepard merely snorted.

"What? Expected them to knock on the front door?" She laughed, getting an odd look from both the Turian and the Asari. "I can think of… three ways right now off the top of my head, one involving a look-alike Citadel transporter car that would disembark from another vessel like a drop ship, and another where they contain tech that exhibits a signal interference field, disrupting scanners with pulse noise that reads 'garbage'. Your tech-alarms get any false-positives and bad readings?"

"Well…" The Detective looked down to Shepard's red Omnitool, and she realized she just broached a sensitive subject. "Yes. All the time. New mods and designer clothes can pop a tech warning, and Volus suits are always setting them off. That isn't public knowledge, though."

"So they knew, because that's what they were going for." Shepard nodded, making the Turian give her a look she assume was one of surprise. "If you're going to infiltrate a location, you gather as much intelligence as possible, especially concerning weaknesses. How many human C-Sec officers are there, Detective."

"Eighteen in total. All vetted." Chellick replied, his duel-toned voice stern, obviously not liking where she was going. "Are you implying…?"

"Occam's Razor; simplest explanation is usually the right one." Shepard sighed, looking over to Tela Vasir, who looked concern as well. "No one comes to the Citadel without Corporate's approval if they're human, Detective Chellick. Perhaps some stowaways can smuggle themselves on here, but C-Sec? They came here legally… and that meant a Corporate sponsorship." The Asari Specter and the Turian Detective exchanged a look with one another before looking back at her. "You have a rat, Detective; someone who knew about the tech-alarms and how to bypass them. And then they talked."

"We monitor all signals from every Officer, Shepard." Chellick informed her, his tone frosty. "It's monitored to look up certain words through a VI. Anything pertaining to such would have come up."

"Let me guess, no one bothers to think that we humans still use paper as a form of passing messages along just because we're afraid of alien snooping." Shepard asked, watching the Turian's mandibles go wide. "Write a letter, give it to a human transport captain, and have it handed off to someone back on Earth. Or the diplomatic bags through our Embassy. Or smugglers. Traders. Military personnel… want me to keep going?"

"You've made your point, human." The Detective threw up his talons in resignation, shaking his head. "The Executor is going to _love_ hearing this _carpala_." Shepard thought for a second, and then brought up her Omnitool and forwarded her address to the Detective, sending it to him in the form of a message. "What's this for?"

"If you're investigating humans, you might want a human consultant." Shepard replied with a nod. "Run into something you don't know or doesn't make sense? I'll give you what you need to know if I know it myself. These assholes tried killing me and my men. I want someone's ass nailed to a wall for this, and the best way to do that is to provide you my full cooperation. If it's an emergency, you can contact me in the dead of night if it's important. I'd rather lose sleep that lose lives or time."

"I… thank you. Specter." The Detective nodded his head towards her, and Shepard realized it was the first time he had truly addressed her as an Agent of the Counsel, even if it were only temporary. "Now if you'll excuse me, Agents, I have a good deal of evidence to go through before I get to enjoy the paperwork that will inevitably follow. I shall forward the both of you the results that I find out, and any questions I might have." The last one was directed at her, and Shepard found it strange to have earned a _Turian's_ respect, yet it had felt good.

"We'll keep in touch, Detective." Tela Vasir promised with a bow. "For now, we should visit Huerta Hospital to check on your friends, Jane."

"Probably should get you a change of clothes too, Tela. You're still running around in an evening gown."

* * *

A/N: Yes, the Specter Armor is somewhat based off of the Iron Man armor off the movies, able to pull apart and come on, stand up, etc. Seriously, why can't Shepard have armor like Tony Stark?

Stacy went full-Mom on Shepard. +2 Paragon. Shepard ignored her. +2 Renegade plus time out.

The basic N course work out is completely based off the work out routine I did while in the Army. Yes, I did three hundred push up's a day; one hundred per set, three times a day, fifteen pull ups, and sprinting a hundred meters back and forth times three, to equal nine hundred meters. If this interests you, start small and work your way up, and you can do it. I actually got it from the same training regime that Hershel Walker of the Eagles did, who claimed to never lift a weight. Sadly, I am too busted up to do this anymore.

For the math of the jump, this is hard science, and the math is correct. In Chapter 18: A Suicide You Can Walk Away From in Mass Effect: The Battle Of Menae, I actually go over a portion of the true needs of a no b.s. HALO jump. One simply does not just walk off a plane at 30,000 feet; oxygen is required, as is pressurization, and a shit load of math. Timing is off, and you're landing kilometers off target in God knows where, your team scattered to hell, and risking a damn good many injuries and possible fatalities. I've seen the new T-11 parachute, and I'm pretty impressed. I will not miss the T-10D. Despite how scary it seems, American/Canadian parachuting and skydiving are some of the safest sports in the world, as everyone takes safety seriously, you can't do it without classes, and no one takes a drunk person with a parachute up. The Regulations are top-notched, and I recommend it to anyone that doesn't have a back injury, bad legs, or a heart condition. It is worth the hundred or so dollars for some classes and an experience that will beat Alzheimer's. George Bush Sr. could do it at like 78? You can, too.

"Private So-and-So! Slamming your eyes shut and pissing your pants does not qualify you as a night-jumper!" SSG T. R. (Name Withheld), 2004, Fort Benning, GA. 1st platoon, 1st BN, 507th Parachute Infantry Regiment. Yes, this was directed at me. I qualified.

The Cipritine Ghost, the Turian super sports air car, is rated at a 1,000 kph, boasting a 0-250 kph at 3.3 seconds, and is capable of minor space flight. For 2.2 million credits, you can have one. I based its looks of my favorite super sport, the Lamborghini Diablo. So the taxi cab chase in Lair? I did it in a sports car.

"Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more…" -Henry V, William Shakespeare.

There is indeed a military cadence that goes like this; "Jesse James said before he died, there's five kind of things that I want to ride. Bicycle, tricycle, automobile, a fat tanker's wife and a ferris wheel."

And Jertar Zazon did create a similar situation as the DLC Bring Down The Sky. BTW, I shot Balak in the face on that one.

And who could be this mysterious corporation? I left a big fat clue in the third paragraph, but I'll repeat it to save you time; octagonal in shape, split up into eight equal parts, alternating between red and white.


	21. 21: Lifestyle Determines Deathstyle

Disclaimer: BioWare owns Mass Effect. 20th Century Fox owns the _Alien_ franchise.

**Widow System, November 21, 2176**

2nd Lieutenant Jane Shepard woke up in a Hureta Hospital waiting room, her sleeping arrangement of choice a chair meant for what seemed to be a Krogan as she sat up properly, cracking her neck from side-to-side as she looked around her blearily. It was already 'First Light' by Citadel standards, and she occupied the room with three others; Ellen Ripley, Rebecca Jorden, and PFC Jeanette Vasquez had been the only ones uninjured during the attack, while the rest were still in rooms undergoing various treatments and observations. Ellen laid upon a hospital-styled couch with newt cuddled in her arms, the both of them fast asleep while Vasquez sat in a seat not too far from Shepard, still wearing her stained Alliance Blues. The only thing that was different about her was her customary bandana was gone, used to make a bandage for Hudson.

"You ever sleep, _chica_?" Vasquez asked, her voice groggy as her eyes darted to the two Turian C-Sec Security Service Squad Agents that stood just outside the waiting room door, for protection. Even in her just awoken state, Shepard could tell that the PFC was exactly pleased to see the Turians standing there, though she wisely said nothing.

"I got… three hours? Four? Shit, I got to see the Counsel this morning." Shepard groaned, trying to imagine what the Three might say about events that occurred over the past several hours. "Ishis Dieri is probably walking into that bloodbath and assuming we threw a party or something. I wonder if they sell coffee on this tub?"

"Coffee sounds good. I'm game." The Gunner replied as Shepard stood up, feeling bones popping back into place as she straightened out her Blues, having traded her Serrice Counsel armor and Asari dress when she arrived at the hospital. C-Sec had thankfully delivered some of the platoons' equipment to the hospital in case they needed extra uniforms and such, considering they were currently homeless. Another in the list of things that needed resolving, Shepard grumbled to herself. Vasquez took her military blouse, which she had been using as a pillow, and slipped it on, Shepard unsurprised to see that the sleeves were rolled up high and buttoned into place to show off her muscle-thick biceps. "You likin' what you seein', El-Tee? Or do my guns get your envy?" Vasquez smiled.

"Please. On both parts." Shepard snorted, returning the smile. "You've seen my biceps. Pretty sure we're the same measurement. Thirteen inches, right?" She raised an eyebrow, staring down the Latino woman, almost goading her. Vasquez just huffed.

"_Puta._" The Gunner cursed, her face going sour as Shepard smirked at the smaller woman. "Need that coffee, _chica_."

"Yeah, coffee does sound good about now." Shepard admitted as both women went to leave the room, the Turian C-Sec officers noting their departure. "Hey, Officer? Anyplace around here that sells good coffee?"

"Um, well…" The Turian actually seemed to consider the question, taking it seriously as oppose to blowing her off, which was nice. "I've seen most of the humans go to the same stand, and they don't seem to mind the wait. It's outside the hospital, on the main Presidium Ring, in front of the Human, Volus, and Elcor Embassies. It's called Groots', and it's run by a Bull."

"Thank you kindly, Officer… Tanidas?" Shepard asked, making she she was saying it right, seeing the dark-faced Turian with white paint markings on his face nod.

"Oh! And you have a visitor. A Ishis Dieri is waiting for you in the lobby." Tanidas told Shepard, who merely nodded. "She came earlier, but said that she would wait until you were ready."

"That's nice of her." Vasquez snorted, folding her arms across her chest, her tone not matching her words. "_Pequeña flor azul_ could have brought us better security."

"Vas, that wasn't her fault; it was Burke's." Shepard replied quietly, looking to the Gunner, who looked back at her sourly. "She didn't betray us; a human did. Aliens didn't storm into our rooms; humans did. Remember, Marine, that we defend against all enemies…"

"…Both foreign and domestic." Vasquez finished, her tone sullen, her dark eyes stormy. "I hadn't forgotten, _chica_. Just… tough days, man. Tough days."

"There'll be more before it's over, I'm sure." Shepard promised, making the Gunner nod. "Keep your head straight and your guns ready, and the time _will_ come when I want you back on my side with that Marshal of yours, and we can repay back every last one of those motherfuckers."

"Fuckin' A, El-Tee." That had the Marine smile as she bumped Shepard's shoulder with her fist. "If you keep brinin' 'em? I'll keep mowing them down like it's my _papi's_ lawn maintenance business." That had Shepard snort. "Let's go meet the Blue in the lobby and grab that coffee, El-Tee."

* * *

The lobby to Huerta Hospital was like any other lobby that 2nd Lieutenant Jane Shepard had every seen; filled with sick people, concerned family members, and the various hypochondriacs. Both she and PFC Jeanette Vasquez walked through the bustle of the Citadel's largest hospital, weaving their way through a plethora of species that were visiting the hospital for whatever reason they had. Shepard was rather glad of her genemods right now; the basic viral-resistant one was probably in full swing as she heard no less than thirty different people of five different species coughing while waiting to be seen by a nurse or a Doctor, and she didn't want to think what an Asari flu or a Salarian bug could do to her. Supposedly, dextro diseases didn't jump to levo-species and vice versa, so at least Shepard didn't have to worry about the Turian man who looked like his plates were looking ready to fall off. She hated hospitals.

"Lieutenant Shepard, thank you for coming." Ishis Dieri spoke as Shepard approached the diplomatically-dressed Asari who stood in a less crowded portion of the Huerta Lobby, near the entrance. "After last night's events, I figured you would wish for more time for recuperation."

"There's no rest for the wicked, Matron Dieri." Shepard replied with a twisted smile, making Vasquez snort. "I'm up, I'm here, let's go see the Counsel. But I'm in dire need of coffee, and we were recommended Groot's."

"That is on the way, and is easily achievable." The Asari woman bowed slightly. "Come. I have an escort that can take us there, and we can provide for your companion if you so desire."

"Naw, man, just the coffee." Vasquez replied, obviously a little uneasy around the Asari. "I'll be good hanging back at the waiting room with Ripper and Newt." Together, the three of them left the hospital, Vasquez walking behind Shepard to put some distance between herself and the Asari, Shepard noted, but said nothing as they approached an utilitarian-looking aircar mean for six passengers. One of the gull-wing doors opened, and Shepard saw that the driver was none other than the Counsel Agent Tela Vasir, smiling as she turned to face the three of them.

"A Specter chauffeur, now I've seen it all." Shepard commented to Vasquez, who snickered. Shepard and Vasquez slipped into the middle row of the aircar while Ishis Dieri sat in the passenger seat, each of the m connecting their restraining harnesses and indicating that they were ready to the Specter in the driver seat, who pressed a button on the dashboard to retract the door, and began to fly away from Huerta's at a reasonable speed and civility. Shepard found herself watching out the window and looking at the the rings of the Presidium, all three of them that were concentric circles, the largest being at the bottom, and the smallest being at the top, though the top ring was still some seven kilometers around, with the bottom being at eleven in circumference. A wide variety of sights were to be seen along the Presidium, with shops decorating the vista, a plethora of plant life for decor, and buildings that dotted the main walkways as beings from a thousand worlds and colonies walked its grounds, milling about in what was the largest singular galactic market. Tela drove in a normal fashion in a lane that boasted little traffic from other aircars, very reasonable considering the constant near-death experience the Asari had piloted in the Cirpritine Ghost. Shepard briefly wondered who the owner was, and what they would say if they had known what sort of crazy stunts Vasir had pulled. She noted that the Agent was now wearing something resembling close to what Asari Huntresses wore, a leather armored suit reinforced with impact plates, though it was white as oppose to black or a deep brown. Shepard had to admit that it seemed to fit Tela well; something fast and nimble.

"Next stop, Groot's Coffee Emporium!" Tela Vasir called out cheerfully, turning the aircar from the lane they were in and landing in a designated aircar spot, the vehicle slowly landing on the ground. "I know humans have an affection for the stuff, but I've never understood it. It's just grounded beans mixed with water."

"If I had to suffer reading an Asari menu and picking at random, then you're going to suffer me getting a cup of coffee from an Elcor." Shepard pointed out, making Vasquez chuckle beside her, the Specter joining in as well. Together, the two Asari and two humans got out of the aircar, Tela locking it up with her red Omnitool. Shepard found herself on the lower ring of the Presidium, a multitude of creatures walking about to and fro to their particular destinations, the artificial light of the Citadel giving the impression of mid-day glow of spring as she saw Asari, Turian, Salarian, and every other race walking about. She couldn't help but stare at all of them; a Volus in a brown pressure suit with white trim waddling about with two Turians walking right behind (him/her/it?) like servants, while an Elcor Bull lumbered through all, everyone else keenly walking around the large alien with respect to its size and girth. An Asari with a train of young Asari (Maidens? Shepard thought) glided by, her pale yellow dress seemingly made of some silk-like material, very formfitting while a shawl and train trailed behind her, the Maidens dressed in a kind of white full-body costume that reminded Shepard of a nun's habit. Almost next to her was another Asari that was wearing, of all things, something that looked almost exactly like a three-piece suit, though there were enough minor differences to suggest it had extraterrestrial origins. Two Salarians chittered and rambled as they walked by, their jackets billowing while the bodysuits they wore hugged their scrawny frames, giving them a perpetually-starved look. Shepard spied a full environmental suit of a Quarian in the midsts of the ruckus, a colorful display that would fit well in the old circuses of Earth with its vibrant shades of red, purple, and blue. There were hundreds of them walking about, completely absorbed in their own worlds, and Shepard found herself looking to Vasquez, who was looking right back at her.

"_Madre de Dios_." Vasquez crossed herself quickly, kissing her knuckles as she looked at the throng of aliens, obviously nervous as hell. "Never seen so many at once!"

"Think of it like… like a circus or a zoo, Vas." Shepard replied quietly, not too sure if 'circus' or 'zoo' would be translatable to the nearby Asari. "We're just visiting the county fair and looking at the freak show creatures. Just… think about something goofy about them, and they don't seem so intimidating." The Gunner looked at Shepard like she had fallen off her rocker. "Seriously! Every time I see a Turian with their face paint, I keep having the urge to tell them that they need to fix their make-up." That had Vasquez stare at Shepard for a good moment before she began to roar with laughter.

"_Chica_, you are one seriously fucked-up broad. Telling a Turian he wears make-up?" The PFC snorted, and then looked right at a nearby Turian, oblivious to the conversation. "Shit! I see what you mean! It kind of looks like clown make-up!" With that, they returned with the Asari, where Ishis Dieri led them across the plaza of the Presidium to where a kiosk was built between two large trees with bluish-yellow leaves surrounding it. The kiosk was run by an Elcor with a simple rug-like cover on its back, and a small line was queued up, almost exclusively human in composition. Shepard and Vasquez got in line, and much to her surprise, Tela Vasir did as well, the Counsel Liaison Matron standing to one side, waiting patiently.

"Gonna try human cuisine, Tela?" Shepard asked, amused, as she looked back at the Asari Specter with a quirky grin. "I guess you could do worse than coffee."

"I've had Groots' coffee before. It is flavorful." The Agent replied, her brew raised up. "Don't mistake me for some puffed-up pureblood, Jane; I'm willing to try anything once." That had Vasquez cough uncomfortably as Shepard had to hide the growing smile with her hand. "I said something bad in human, didn't I?"

"That's usually what someone says before they do something stupid or taboo, _azul_." Vasquez informed her, shaking her head. "It's usually what one _hombre_ says to another _hombre_ before asking him out." That only got a questioning look from the Asari. It was obvious that a Thessian wouldn't get it.

"Vas, her entire race is composed of women; I don't think 'homosexual relationship' means anything to her." Shepard replied, making the Gunner grunt in agreement. "What's a 'pureblood'?"

"A daughter of two Asari." Tela replied, making Shepard remember that the Specter admitted to having a Batarian father. "Purebloods are in a bit of a stigma as of recent development, being seen as conservative traditionalists that are more interested in looking backwards instead of forwards. Mudbloods, such as myself, are generally seen as polluted and lesser in many ways; biotic strength, intelligence, capabilities and the such. No scientific value to it, considering how we propagate, but that's stuck-up bitches for you."

"Ya know what, El-Tee? I like her." Vasquez admitted, a twisted smile on her face. "She don't take shit from nobody." The line moved forward, and Shepard found that they were now third in line from the kiosk, and she could already smell the aroma of coffee waifing into her nose. "Um, El-Tee? Back on the clock." The Gunner's voice drew Shepard from the smell of coffee and onto the shorter Mexican woman. "Goon squad, 3 o'clock. All human." Shepard looked over just enough to see with the corner of her eye, and saw what appeared to be ten armored humans moving down the middle of the Presidium ring, seemingly walking right towards them, though they were still about fifty meters away. "Orders?"

"The tree behind us, go hide behind it. You're not armed." Shepard told the Gunner, giving her a serious look that brooked no arguments or discussion, and Vasquez complied quickly, moving over to Ishis Dieri first and grabbing the Liaison by the arm first, pulling the squawking Asari who obviously wasn't aware of the situation behind the large pot that the strange alien tree by the kiosk stood in. That was good; she'd have to remind herself to compliment Vasquez on her quick thinking. "Tela? You got an idea?"

"Let's see how this plays out before we do anything rash." The Asari replied coolly, nodding to Shepard, obviously readying herself for anything. "You armed?"

"Mark X Pistol in the waistband at my back. I'm not making that same mistake twice." She replied to the Thessian as they watched the ten-man squad move right at them, completely obvious to the aliens that were now stepping away and watching them, without any thought of disguising themselves or the M9 Tempest submachine guns they had shipped on their belts for a quick draw and acquisition. Shepard winced at the thought of staring down ten armed men dressed in her Blues; okay, so she had a pistol now, but a pistol wouldn't stop her from being gunned down in a hail of gunfire. Not that she wished to possess biotics, but in a time like this…

"Lieutenant Shepard!" One of the men in medium Hadne-Kedar Predator armor called out, the hands of every one of them dropping to the pistol grips of their Tempests' at their belts, still in carrying configuration as all ten men faced her, their eyes seemingly ignoring all else as she was addressed. She saw the one who spoke, a man that didn't seem to be much older than her. His compatriots, she noted, were all men, and some had some visible signs of surgery and grafts; shit, cyberhancements. More Corporate Security Services, unless she missed her guess. Tech'ed-up thugs seemed closer to the truth now that she could stare them down without a gun immediately shoved into her face. Couldn't she even get a fucking cup of coffee anymore? "You are to come with us!" The leader, stationed in the middle, a man with blue eyes and a chiseled chin, demanded, his voice bold and sure. Shepard snorted and placed her hands on her hips, close enough to grab her Mark X if needed.

"Why?" Shepard asked, her tone less-than amused.

"Orders." The leader returned, his blue eyes narrowing, no doubt not enjoying being questioned.

"_Whose_?" She emphasized, not budging. The leader's eyes narrowed even furthered.

"Corporate Command's, _Lieutenant_." He emphasized her rank, his tone suggesting that she'd better be a good little girl and do as she was told. There was a healthy crowd of bystanders around them, a circle of aliens with a smattering of humans watching on, giving them about a ten meter berth of space. Shepard had no want to comply with the goon squad that stood some three meters in front of her, no doubt under orders to cart her ass into lockdown, toss her on the next human vessel smoking, and have her disappear into the black, never to be seen again with some ambiguous reason such as _duty station, whereabouts unknown_, known as a DUSTWUN. Yet with all the bystanders, unarmed and unarmored, any kind of shootout would undoubtedly inflict injuries and casualties. That kind of press would be splashed all over Citadel News and slapped right onto Humanity's lap as a three-course meal of shit sandwich. She frowned at the quandary she was in; she couldn't risk the lives of innocents, but she wasn't about to get kidnapped right off the Citadel, either.

So Shepard did what all Marines did when faced with such a troublesome scenario; she opened her big fat mouth and she tried talking her way out of it.

"Y'know, I'd love to comply and all," Shepard began with a smile, "but I'm currently unavailable at this time. If you like, you can leave a message at the beep, and I'll get back to you as soon as I'm done banging my hot-ass alien lover here." She jerked her head over to Tela Vasir, who was standing right next to her. "The sex is mind-blowing, and she uses her whole arm."

The effect on the Corporate goon squad was pretty hilarious.

Most of them looked confused at first, either because they didn't understand the reference, or weren't expecting such a comment. Several traded looks of shock or surprise with one another, the little discipline they had breaking down as a few even shuffled uncomfortably. It was what Shepard had been aiming for; broaching a taboo subject, and exploiting the hell out of it. The words _alien lover_ had put a whole new spin on things, as Shepard would no longer be some anonymous human on the Citadel, but someone that a non-human knew about, and might make a fuss about. Obviously, the goon squad had just hit a snag they weren't prepared to deal with.

"Bullshit." The Leader finally replied, his tone completely disgusted. "The blue dyke whores think humans are barbarians, and wouldn't slut themselves to some scarred up cunt like you."

"Honey, they doubt me." Shepard did her best to pout, her tone hurt. She turned to Tela, who didn't look amused at all, her blue jaw clenched in anger as she looked back as Shepard. "Perhaps a little PDA with _you_ can _clear_ _the right_ _men_ of their doubt." Shepard said to the Specter's face with a smile, emphasizing the words she truly wanted the Counsel Agent to hear, hoping that the Thessian would understand. She prayed for it.

"_You left_ me with no choice." Tela's attitude changed slightly, her tone sweet and syrupy, smiling at her like a loon, yet some of her words were emphasized, too. Thank the Gods she got it. "_Three seconds,_ no more." Shepard was about to agree, but never got the chance to.

Tela Vasir's lips were on her own.

To say that the move shocked Shepard was putting it mildly as the Asari Specter pulled her in for a kiss that was neither chaste nor innocent. Shepard's lips were assaulted by Thessian blue lips that were both soft and full, and left her almost breathless. Tela soon pulled away, and Shepard felt instant regret as she opened her eyes, damn near forgetting what she was suppose to be doing as she looked into blue-violet eyes.

Both Specter and Marine pulled their pistols out at once, and each fired five times.

* * *

"Holy _shit!_" PFC Jeanette Vasquez called out as she approached the scene, her eyes wide as she went to the nearest dropped goon, relieving him of his M9 Tempest and aiming it at his head for a second, and then moving on. The Gunner did a quick Sweep-and-Search, making sure each of the targets were down and dead, going through all ten with speed and precision, her newly-acquired Tempest tracking each possible enemy she walked by until she was satisfied each one wouldn't be getting back up. If they had still looked alive, she would undoubtedly put another round into their skulls, to make sure they stayed down.

She never fired.

"Ten out of ten." Vasquez looked up from the submachine gun's sights, smiling at 2nd Lieutenant Jane Shepard as the Latino woman gave her the all-clear. "Dome shots, too."

"We should probably get out of here before more come or someone with a sniper rifle gets smart and does things right." Shepard told Counsel Agent Tela Vasir, putting her Specter Gear Mark X Pistol back in the waistband of her military pants behind the small of her back. "C-Sec's probably on their way as well."

"You forgot, Maiden, you're on the side of the good guys." Tela smiled, flashing her red Omnitool on her left arm, pressing a few buttons, and talking into it. "Executor Palin? Agent Vasir. A team of human commandos tried to either apprehend or kidnap Lieutenant Shepard in the middle of the lower Presidium ring front of everyone and the Goddess as witness. Yes, that's the Maiden who's causing all the ruckus, Executor." Shepard winced at that one, as it took her a second to identify that the Executor was the Executor of Citadel Security. "I need an investigative team here in front of Groot's coffee stand to collect the bodies, and another team to make their way to Huerta for security purposes. If they were bold enough to do this in the middle of the day, we don't need someone trying in the middle of a hospital." That had Shepard wince again at the thought; at this point in time, what wasn't possible? "I'm going to relocate Lieutenant Shepard from the scene. I don't know if we were followed or if they have a tracker on us, but staying in an unsecured location isn't plausible right now. Thank you." The red Omnitool flashed off as Tela looked towards Shepard. "Well, you heard me. Time to move."

"Vasquez? Secure us a few more of those Tempests, and you're coming with us." Shepard told the Gunner, who was already moving to comply, collecting three more of the submachine guns and clipping their hard points to her belt under the hem of her top. "Tela, I'm the most likely to be bugged; Omnitool, uniform… something. They came for me and identified me, meaning it wasn't the aircar, Ishis, or Vasquez. They certainly didn't know who you were, either."

"What, and miss the opportunity to mess with your relationship with your _alien lover_?" The Thessian asked pointedly, folding her arms across her chest, amused. Shepard coughed into her hand embarrassingly, making Vasquez chortle as she held a Tempest tight against her chest. "Oh, I'm sorry, your _hot-ass_ alien lover who uses her _whole arm_." Vasquez couldn't help herself as she almost fell over laughing, and Shepard felt her cheeks grow very, very hot. "What, Maiden? Was the sex not _mind blowing?_"

"You made your point!" Shepard practically squeaked, fighting off the urge to hide her face behind her hands. She had never been so embarrassed in her life! "Gods! I was trying to stall them and tell you my plan, Tela!"

"I know, Jane." The Thessian smiled, smirking while she winked over at Vasquez, who was still roaring with laughter, wiping away tears. "I always wondered if humans made good kissers. Now I know."

"_What!_" Shepard was shocked as she watched the Asari Specter walk away with a little sauce in her steps, her hips swaying sensually, looking so much like the cat who got the canary. "You're kidding me, right? You did that… why… you… argh!" She stomped her foot on the ground, feeling foolish. "_You wanted to know how well I kissed?"_

"Guess that'll be my little secret to keep, Maiden." The Thessian threw back over her shoulder, making Shepard cry out in admonishment. "Come, come, my little _shan'rana_. We shouldn't dally here. Might prevent me from finding out other things." Shepard was speechless, but she definitely gave a wordless howl of fury.

"Oh, she got you good, _puta_." Vasquez slapped Shepard's shoulder, still chuckling. "She got you _real_ good."

* * *

"It seems you've been keeping yourself quite busy since the last time we met, Lieutenant." Counselor Tevos T'essus spoke as 2nd Lieutenant Jane Shepard sat in a proffered seat of a meeting room in which the Counsel of Three had directed them to. Counsel Agent Tela Vasir was sitting on a plush couch, one leg crossed of the other, reading the contents of a data pad while PFC Jeanette Vasquez sat somewhere behind her, obviously trying to catch up on some sleep as Shepard sat in front of the Three. Each of them were in their own chairs, with haptic desks in front of them that worked as work stations as well, baffling her at first from the complexity of it, amazed by the technology. The setting was obviously one of a more relaxed state than it had been in the Counsel Chambers, as this was some sort of meeting room that the Counsel obviously used on a regular basis. Who knew how much policy was made in this very room, Shepard thought to herself, suddenly feeling like the new kid in an old establishment. "Frankly, the reports that I've been receiving from Agent Vasir and Executor Palin are quite alarming. That so many could have infiltrated the Hesperiidae Hotel, with one of the best security systems in the Citadel, is extremely disconcerting."

"I wasn't even aware of such security measures until Agent Vasir and Detective Chellick explained it to me later, Counselor." Shepard replied, her hands folded in front of her as she sat in a semi-relaxing position, much like the Counsel was. "They had inside help from one of the men that came with me, a Carter Burke of the Weyland-Yutani Corporation. I assume he told the infiltrators of our location, but I can't imagine he would have had access or knowledge of how to defeat security systems in the Citadel. I cued the Detective on the possibility of a human C-Sec Officer as a possible leak, as he explained that false-positives from Volus-suits and designer clothes was a common occurrence. If one of them sent the information as paper mail instead of electronic, they could easily slip that under your radar to where a team could perhaps emulate such a condition, throwing off your sensors instead of triggering them."

"Yes, I read the report. Interesting stuff." Counselor Sparatus Quinlinus replied, looking at something on his haptic desk. "As far as I'm aware, no one else uses composite fiber-carbons to make physical writing tablets that could be folded to be made more discrete for the passing of sensitive information. Your observation of such alerted to us what could be a potentially serious breach in security and sensitive information, but also a way we could remedy that by scanning for this… paper." The Turian shook his head. "Primitive in nature, but brilliant all the same. Any antagonistic party, not just your human government, could have been probing weaknesses for years right under our mandibles without alerting us. This will be rectified, of course, but I fear that the damage has already been done. As for the tech-alerts and the IFF scanners…" Counselor Quinlinus looked over to his compatriot, Counselor Valern Nemnor, giving a Turian frown. "I discovered that the STG has been exploiting that loop-hole for years, purposefully not bringing it up so their agents could slip in unnoticed. Now we may potentially have who knows how many armed humans walking about undetected, with too many false-positives being brought up for C-Sec to realistically clear them all in any reasonable amount of time."

"I'm afraid that we're rather adaptive when it comes to finding different solutions for difficult problems, Counselor." Shepard replied respectfully. "There's always a flaw, and humans have a rather good knack of finding them and exploiting them, I'm afraid. Lawyers, spies, stock brokers… people get rich finding the loop hole and using it to their advantage. I'm afraid I have no good news to supplement to that."

"You have, actually; your cooperation with Detective Chellick's investigation." Counselor Nemnor imputed next, his tone sincere. "He turned in a report of his initial findings, as well as his impressions of a 'human Specter' that was willing to give him a human's insights." Shepard coughed into her hand uncomfortably, hoping that her temporary Specter access wouldn't be brought up. "We approve of Agent Vasir's decision of giving you temporary Level 1 access, Lieutenant. Considering all that is happening, it may be well that you remained armed and armored for your duration, as well as that of your men. We shall detail at least one Specter to you for protection purposes as well as asset and requisition needs. At this time, the Citadel Intelligence Agency is preparing a safe house for you and your platoon. We had thought the Hesperiidae Hotel to be secure enough, but as you pointed out, the lapses were as much our fault as it was the perpetrators."

"Lieutenant, not to sound callous," Counsel T'essus began, "but can you fathom a reason or a purpose as to why men are being sent to kill you and your men? And whom that might be? Two failed attempts in less than a day seems like… desperation."

"I can only guess to the first set, and the second set being wild speculation." Shepard replied, and saw that the Counselors were still willing to listen. "That Carter Burke made contact with someone and identified his location is obvious, but we have no evidence if our removal was a part of his plan, or whomever he spoke to. I can only surmise that he wishes to sell what information he has gleaned to whomever extracted him. As we were the only one with the evidence of what happened on LV 426, the research and data was lost to any and all in the Alliance. I can only surmise that he must have a back-up copy of what happened in the Science Lab underneath Hadley's Hope, and is selling it to an interested party."

"How damaging can that be?" Counselor Namnor asked, curious. "Without the species in their possession, it's data, but data without use."

"Yes, but two ships landed and left LV 426. Burke knows of this." Shepard replied. "They may not have any xenomorphs now, but they have the identity of one ship, the SSV _Sulaco_, as well as an idea of the size of the ship that excavated whatever was in the derelict, as well as its contents. Data without use does not equal useless data. It can still be sold, traded, used as a bargaining chip… perhaps someone else has an egg, and Burke has the research. That data could fuel a hunt for the species for capturing purposes if others realized its potential."

"It is unfortunate that you were unable to catch him then, Lieutenant." The Turian Counselor replied, his tone quite. "I must admit to you, you have been a remarkable example of your species, and one I admit I am glad to have met. But I must ask you a hard question, Lieutenant; one I believe you'll lie to me about. Not because you are dishonorable, but because I think you are desperate to protect something valuable or important, something I haven't been able to ascertain.

"Why did you let him go?"

Shepard felt her heart thud in her chest, panic setting in her belly as she knew she had been figured out. Had Vasir told them? Shepard would have actually guessed no, the Asari having acceded to her wishes the night before. The Counsel did possess some of the best hackers, spies, saboteurs, and investigators in the galaxy; any one of those could have been the reason they knew.

"It wasn't him I let go, Counselor." Shepard finally answered, her voice weak, fighting off the feeling of failure she felt the night before when she had utter the words. "I want him dead. I want that data recovered. It was _who_ was doing it, Counselor. They…" Gods, could she _tell_ the Counsel? Would they even _understand_? "If I said that you were forced to make a choice that would result in the removal of all biotic potential in Asari forever, for the greater good of all, could you make that choice, Counselor?" The Asari was taken slightly aback. "Every gun in the Hierarchy military, back to talons and growling?" Counselor Quinlinus frowned at that. "Every piece of scientific equipment and machines, all data lost?" The Salarian looked to her, not giving an indication of his thoughts. "It was _they_ who helped us build hyperspace flight, who got us to the stars. It was _they_ who invented genetic modifications that saved our species from so many crippling diseases and cancers. It was _they_ who saved the world economy from utter collapse over fifty years ago by inventing terraforming plants when Earth got too polluted to sustain life. _They_ are in everything that we do, Counselors; Earth would not survive without them. If… if I told you their name, and you found that they were guilty… tried to topple them…" Shepard had to blink away some tears. "The Alliance would completely collapse, and Mankind would be reverted by _centuries_, the absolute laughingstock of the galaxy while being the easy pickings of whatever space-faring asshole wanted a piece of the action. I… _couldn't_… I couldn't do that to my people, Counselors, I'm not prepared to make that kind of decision, to be the betrayer of Mankind. Agent Vasir calls me 'Maiden', which means young adult?" To that, Counselor T'essus nodded her head. "Would you want a Maiden to make that decision for you? Can you think of any that you'd be willing to let try?"

"I… see." The Turian Counselor looked at her thoughtfully for a moment. "You've surprised me once more, Lieutenant. You did tell the truth on why you let the man go, while protecting what you believe to be more important; the security of your planet and people. Perhaps… you _are_ prepared to make that kind of decision. You, in fact, did. Do you know what it is that we of the Counsel of Three do?"

"Global policy and galactic security?" Shepard guessed, a little thrown off by the question. Wasn't that the role of all governments?

"Hardly!" Counselor Quinlinus laughed, a good-natured one. "We leave that to the separate species' governments like the Republic, the Union, the Hierarchy, and yes, even the Systems Alliance. We are not all-powerful or all-knowing. We are merely here to keep the whole mess from coming away at the seems. We, Lieutenant Shepard are the peacemakers, not the peacekeepers."

Shepard almost literally had to pick her jaw off the floor. _Wai… what?_

"It is our responsibility to prevent clashes from happening." Counselor Valern Nemnor continued, his tone amused. "With so many planets, colonies, settlements, and people, it is almost impossible to govern them all. We do not. We leave that to the various governments of the galaxy to control. We simply make sure that the governments themselves play nice with one another. We do not get involved in disputes, Lieutenant; we simply end them, one way or another."

"Oh, Gods… you mean…" Shepard couldn't believe what she was hearing. The Counsel of Three… were tyrannical overlords?

"You must understand why, Lieutenant. Your species was not present during the Terminus Wars." Counselor Tevos T'essusreplied, her voice saddened. "This was before we ever found the Turians or the Krogan, back when it was Asari, Salarian, Volus, Hanar, and Elcor. We held little sway back then, and much of the galaxy was split into fiefdoms, where there were many more sectors of space than there are today. We, the Asari and the Salarians, use to pit the various governments against one another, playing with them to keep them weak. When they caught wise of this, they retaliated by uniting and forcing us to actually deal with them militarily." The Asari closed her eyes for a moment. "My race may have fine warriors, but we were facing our own, as were the Salarians. The rebels wanted no part of the Citadel or the Counsel, and fought for their independence."

"We had something like that just a decade ago." Shepard admitted, thinking of the Alliance/Independent Wars, sometimes known as the Browncoat Wars.

"Yes, but the difference was that your Alliance was hoping for strength through unity, while we simply did it because we wished to be the masters of all." The Counselor explained. "The war lasted almost an entire Asari generation. There were many deaths on both side, and in the end, we drew lines through the galaxy, made the frontiers that you know of today because of our meddling. We learned the hard way that personally involving ourselves in schemes and the everyday lives of the galaxy scares even the members of our own species. Thus, we let our own governments rules as they see fit, to regulate their own. We merely step in when things get out of line."

"Then… why this?" Shepard ask, holding out her hands, indicating the Citadel, the Counsel, and everything in between. "We, humans, thought you controlled it all. I know that I thought that you went and kept planets and organizations in line."

"It is true that it is the purpose of the Citadel Fleets to do that." Counselor Quinlinus answered, the Turian looking at her. "We must keep up the presence of defense and control to keep those who think to take advantage in check, those that the various governments can't reach. That is where the Counsel does step in; piracy, smugglers, isolated science experiments outside of proper oversight such as on LV 426." The Turian nodded towards her. "We keep the various governments from breaking their own rules, too, from extorting their own people. Right now, the Counsel has sanctioned the System Alliance twice for violations of what you call human rights due to incidences that did not escape our notice. We pounce on such things because it will help deter the next incident, perhaps prevent form an even worse one from happening."

"So… you play the peacemaker to keep the citizens of the galaxy in line?" Shepard asked, not sure if she liked the sound of that. It sounded so much like those sci-fi videos of evil alien overlords.

"Tell me this, Lieutenant, did you not feel confident enough to come to us with your discoveries?" Counselor Nemnor asked, his tone jovial. "Did you not trust us more than what you felt was safe from your own government? That is what we do. What if there had been no Counsel, no one else to turn to _but_ the Alliance? Where would you have gone then? Do you feel safe going to them now?"

"I… I don't." She answered miserably, knowing that the Salarian had a point. Shepard had no idea what she would do if the Counsel hadn't been there, if they hadn't taken her seriously. If she had gone back to Earth with the evidence, what would have happened to her and her men?

"Being a Counsel member is not an easy profession, and we are not selected for our virtues of state." Counselor T'essus resumed. "We are simply problem solvers who wish to limit what damage can be done by those who think that such things as greed and pain are better causes than honor and virtue. We must balance ourselves or we find ourselves the same monsters we wish to prevent, but sometimes that is a necessary step that we must take. You, as a member of your military, know that sometimes the best course of action isn't always the honorable one, is it?"

"No. Not always." Shepard replied glumly. "I just hoped… I guess we as humans have looked to the skies for so long, hoping that someone out there knew it better than we, and would be willing to share a little with us. But we're really not so different, are we? We're all just trying to get by, day-to-day, hoping that our mistakes don't ruin us further."

"We Turians were the same way, too, once." The Turian Counselor replied softly. "True, it's been fifteen hundred galactic years since we were uplifted, but we found the answers where we could and prayed to the Spirits that it would be enough. When we say that humanity is a young species, we don't mean that as a bad thing, it's just that you haven't had the time to adjust, to learn and grow to your own potentials. Even now, some seventeen galactic years on the Citadel, and humans still live in their own quarter, building shops there, and rarely venture out. It took the Turians the better part of two centuries to get comfortable with the other species. Seven generations of knowledge of other races in the galaxy before we finally let those defenses come down and truly accept our place in things. Everyone was like that at one point or another, Lieutenant. I say that out of all the humans on the Citadel that have had the most interaction with other species, you have been by far the most influential in your short time being here."

"Me? I haven't even been here a full day!" Shepard was shocked by what she was hearing.

"Yet everyone we have put alongside you has had nothing but praise by the way you deal with them." Counselor T'essus replied. "It's more than just feigning respect, you _interact_. We've had precious little of that, and it's difficult to figure out how you as a species will deal with things when you won't give us the chance to understand you. Sparatus has mentioned a few times how _different_ you were, because most only meet humans in meetings where much is said, but little of worth is mentioned. You talk, and yet every word you say has meaning with it. Detective Chellick was impressed with your candor, and I believe he is a veteran of the Relay 314 Incident, and has little cause to have interest in your species, yet he spoke quite highly of you."

"Oh." Shepard felt a bit embarrassed by that, and she felt her cheeks grow warm. "It's just been a very, very horrible week for me, and most of the time I feel like I'm just trying to catch up. I… I haven't even had time to bury any of my men yet, and more just died." She closed her eyes, and had to fight the grief off. "I'd thought we'd leave that moon and it be over."

"It's never over, Maiden." Counselor T'essus replied softly, looking at her with sympathy. "There is always another wave following the one that just broke surf."

"One last thing before we're done here." The Turian Counselor spoke up, turning to this Asari and Salarian companions, nodding his head. "I received something from the Office of Special Tactics and Reconnaissance this First Light, wishing for a potential candidate to be approved by the Counsel. It was forwarded by an Agent, reviewed by three separate members of a panel, and finally read by the Master of Special Tactics with his approval. All were waiting for is the word of one woman before I sign off on a sponsorship of Humanity's First Specter. Or at least candidate recruit."

"I…" Shepard froze up, scared by all the implications that it entailed. It must have been obvious to the Counselors as well, seeing her stutter like that. "I… I don't even know if I'm good for it. I mean…"

"_Querido Dios en el paraiso, chica!"_ PFC Jeanette Vasquez spoke up, startling Shepard for a moment, having completely forgotten that the Gunner was still there. "You _loca, puta?_ Just say 'yes', _cabron_!" Evidently, Vasquez had been listening, either a part of, or in full, the entire conversation. "Man, you thinkin' 'bout them _pendejos_ that left us behind on that moon? _Los a la merida_, _chica!_ When our shit hit the fan, I had all the back-up I needed in _you_, _hermana_. Don't be no straight-laced OCS pecker-head trying to please Corporate. Be that bug-hosing, moon-nuking badass that led us ever step of the way on that place, and got us the fuck out of there with our lives and a mission complete. Hell, I heard you even brained a few Asari assassins, too." That had Shepard snort, but looking at Vasquez, seeing her dark eyes staring right at her, she saw the woman nod once; short, sweet, and to the point.

"I'll do it."

* * *

A/N: You knew it was going to happen eventually.

If you don't think a thirteen inch bicep is impressive on a woman, I suggest looking up some photos. Schwarzenegger had 22" biceps in his heyday, and that's not even twice the size. Guinness record belongs to "Mo" Moustafa Ismail with 31" guns, which took him some ten years for those bear crushers. Check it out. It's disgusting.

Making the Presidium required some work, as well as just making a 'normal day' where the universe isn't on the verge of impeding collapse. The most fun I had was with the Quarians colorful suits, as a species having to rely on them would undoubtedly decorate them fully to make up for the loss of facial expressions to make up for their personalities.

The whole idea of 'purebloods bad' explanation didn't make much sense in the game since the Asari had only met the Salarians 2500 years before, so… possibly 4 to 5 generations of Asari. Between the unmentionable threat of Ardat-Yakshis, and… what? Blood lines? Seriously? That was it? I would think that Asari that had children with different species would be more frowned upon, like mixed races were for humans for such a long time.

DUSTWUN - Duty Station Whereabouts, Unknown is a military acronym indicating that someone possibly went off the reservation, was kidnapped, or just plain can't be found. I've personally seen four.

I just don't see how the Counsel runs 'everything'. Just look how large the American government is. Hell, just look how big the Executive Branch is, or the Judicial Branch. You're going to tell me that three people run everything? Instead, I made them Arbiters; the final word on everything. Or, Evil Alien Overlords. This isn't exactly the Counsel you're familiar with.


	22. 22: Meanwhile, At Castle Greyskull

Disclaimer: BioWare owns Mass Effect. 20th Century Fox owns the _Alien_ franchise.

**Meanwhile, at Castle Greyskull…**

Woah! What do you mean, Shepard just became a Specter? What happens next? Where did the Xenos go? Is Eden Prime next? You can't end it like this, Jersey!

Oh yes. Yes, I can.

That's why it's called a _SEQUEL_!

Tune in, as I've already begun #2 of Mass Effect vs. Aliens: Valkyrie Rising.


End file.
